


What Happens in Vegas.....

by MollyLittle



Category: Sanditon (TV 2019), Sanditon - Jane Austen, Welcome to Sanditon
Genre: Childhood Memories, F/F, F/M, Happy Ending, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-29
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:15:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 23
Words: 65,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26176318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MollyLittle/pseuds/MollyLittle
Summary: AU modern day.  Let's put our favorite screen couple in the worst city to find true and meaningful love and see if they are up to the challenge.  A bit silly.  A bit Sexy.  And maybe just a bit inspiring.
Relationships: Charlotte Heywood & Sidney Parker, Charlotte Heywood/Sidney Parker, Clara Brereton/Mr. Crowe, Lord Babington/Esther Denham
Comments: 393
Kudos: 404





	1. Vegas, Baby.

**Author's Note:**

> Here we go. Long time reader, first time writer. First FanFic ever for this lady. Let's not take ourselves too seriously, ok? At least, that's what I keep telling myself. A Pandemic-fueled piece of escapism for me. Hope you laugh. Enjoy!

Chapter 1

Interior – Hotel Room – Upscale. Small Suite. Curtains drawn. Dark but for the bit of daylight inevitably peaking out the corner of the thick, lustrous gold velvet blackout curtains.

Charlotte’s head is pounding. Mouth tastes like fur dipped in wet ash. She knows the feeling all too well. Water. She needs water. Defying her one hotel proscription - take nothing from the mini-bar - she rolls over to grab the bottle of $12 water the Wynn hotel so hospitably leaves on the nightstand. But, she doesn’t see any water. In fact, she cant see the nightstand.

She can’t see it because there is a man lying next her. A very beautiful man. A beautiful man with dark-hair, fulsome lips and one-day stubble perfectly distributed across his cheeks and jawline. He has a pleasant look on his face – even satisfied, Charlotte thinks – as her eyes move to the strong and well-defined bicep and further down the sinewy muscles of his forearm and hand, which is laying gently on her hip. His chest is bare and realizing she herself is naked under the thin sheet that covers her, she’s guessing his skin is equally exposed below the sheet. His chest is as muscular as his arms. While not typically a turn-on for her, Charlotte is captivated by his broad shoulders, the definition of each muscle of his abdomen. This is what they must be talking about when they say, “washboard abs,” she thinks to herself trying to recall exactly why she eschews muscular men as a rule? But that’s too much effort. Her brain starts throbbing and she recalls the many gin martinis from last night.

One before they even boarded the plane at JFK. When she agreed to run off to Vegas with Clara, the new marketing coordinator, she thought it would be a laugh. She’d never been there, and outside of work she knew no one who had ever been. Something she and her classmates at RISD wore like a badge. Vegas and Florida – the purview of state school and big-10 spring breaks held no allure to the art crowd she favored. Even after graduation, when she and her friends moved to Brooklyn, the community of artists she had been introduced to were not the Vegas-going type. You knew this on site – the idea had never once come up in conversation.

Perhaps that’s why when Clara asked her, she decided going may help her sort out the feeling accumulating from her ever more complicated love life. And worse, her art work. Stuck. That’s what Susan said. Evaluating her latest piece in Charlotte's surprisingly nice art studio the last time she visited, Susan considered the wall-sized canvas, with its small charcoal grids placed intermittently between bright splashes of cartoon colored abstract profiles. A ladder stood before the canvas, where Charlotte was perched working on the upper left quadrant of the unnamed work in progress. “You are stuck, my dear Charlotte. Now come here and let me see if I can help you figure out what’s blocking you, patting the spot next to her on the futon mattress Charlotte has pushed up against the far wall of the large cinderblock room. A much-coveted studio live/workspace on the outskirts of Gowanus, dubbed “The Cove.” Artist wait years on the waitlist to get a spot in this subsidized art studio come art family compound; a fact Susan let her in on her Freshman year. As faculty advisors went, Susan proved wise and supportive. As a lover she was attentive and some what possessive. The tip about The Cove was one of the first favors Susan provided Charlotte and Charlotte was grateful. Only much later would these favors cloud Charlotte’s feeling and, more shamefully, her intentions as she continued their relationship through to graduation and, now it seemed, beyond that. Charlotte applied for The Cove’s waiting list before Christmas her freshman year and as though pre-ordained, she got a call in September just after graduation telling her a space had become available. One of many fortuitous happenings that lead Charlotte to believe the universe was in control of her move to New York.

But, with Susan’s constant visits, her new……..entanglement with Milo, the French glass-artist and previous tenant of her much-coveted studio (much of his materials piled up in the corner; a favor she barely felt she could refuse, given the bohemian, cooperative vibe of the Cove.) and the growing pressure on her from her day-job, Charlotte needed to escape. And a visit back home to was not going to cut it. She didn’t need the peace and comfort of her parents’ cozy suburban center-hall colonial in Willingden Estates, just outside Baltimore. She needed an alternate universe. Something to help empty her head of the stress, confusion and indecision currently occupying some prime real estate up there.

Brooklyn, Milo, The Cove, Susan, and the increasingly demanding bankers at Morgan Sachs – she needed something completely outside her world. A thoroughly diverting adventure. So, when Clara - one of the few people at Morgan Sachs she could actually stand - asked Charlotte to join her on her “scouting trip” for their department’s next quarterly meeting, Charlotte believed it was a gift from the trusty universe and she quickly accepted.

But, when she boarded the plane at JFK with Clara on Friday at lunchtime, she had no idea she would become the proverbial Vegas cliché. Not 24 hours after leaving NY and she wakes up naked in some stranger’s bed and cannot even recall his name. Jesus.

Slowly extricated herself from his hold, she backed off the bed gently so as not to wake him. She ran to the bathroom and drank from the faucet as she tried to piece the night together. It came back to her slowly memories colliding against the ripples of pain pulsing through her head.

Although she and Clara had a second cocktail on the plane, she did not feel tipsy when she landed. But, Gin. Gin was Charlotte’s drink, it gave her the freest high, better than weed, less debilitating than mushrooms. Charlotte was prepared for some Hijinx. Clara regaled her with tales of her last few visits to Vegas. Charlotte was game. She needed a change. Some “good old-fashioned fun” Clara called it. And judging by the face looking back at her in the mirror, the naked man in her bed, and the splitting headache she had, she was pretty sure she had just that last night.

Sitting down to pee, it dawned on her – this is not her room. This is not even the same hotel, at least it’s not decorated the same as her and Clara’s bathroom. The white marble walls and slick black counter were definitely an upgrade. A shower big enough for two really made her envious; She and Clara’s tub/shower combo was fine. Until she saw this white marble shower stall. Well, room – that’s what is was – not a stall, a whole shower room, she did not know she wanted such a thing.

Décor notwithstanding, she knew she needed to leave. Where the hell is she? She needed to get out Down in the lobby she’d be able to get back to the Wynn where Clara no doubt was looking for her. Flushing the toilet she washed her hands and dried them off as she scanned the room, tossing the hand towel back into the bathroom hoping it landed on the counter. Purse and shoes in front of the door - excellent. Her dress took bit more of a search but, ultimately she found it draped over the arm of a chair in the alcove sitting room of this much-larger-than-hers hotel room. Slipping on the white silk mini dress she pulled the delicate spaghetti straps over her shoulder and saw a clearly defined bite mark right where the shoulder meets the top of her arm. She smiled but was not entirely sure why the mark amused her. She spied her underwear on the floor at the foot of the bed. She felt a vague tingling sensation between her legs as she put her underwear back on. A flickering memory rushed through her of her sitting on the edge of the bed, legs spread, and a set of brown curls working assiduously on her wet warmth, her hands holding tight to the curls as thought gripping on for fear of falling off a cliff.

He has skill. Good to know, she smirked. She thought to leave a note, but figured she better keep “what happens in Vegas," in Vegas as the saying goes. As she turned to leave, she looked back at the sleeping man; handsome like a Greek god, and smiled to herself. Pity, she thought as he was quite beautiful and though the specific details of last night were elusive, she had a general sense of arousal and safety – like a tight, warm hug - in this room. She was sure she had enjoyed herself.

Slipping out of the room, she held the door until she heard the slight click of the lock, taking note of the room number as she headed to the elevator. Room 1684.

Arriving in the Lobby she passes two bellhops, one wearing a badge that reads, “Four Seasons – Sanditon Place.” Jesus. She was on the other side of the strip from her hotel. “The Wynn, please” she asked, and she caught the next taxi in the queue - a Mercedes. What other kind of taxis would you find in Vegas, she laughed to herself. As she sinks into the seat – she checks her phone. 7.12 a.m. Scrolling through her text messages she sees a few messages from Clara and notices the ragged bandage wrapped around her finger. Rubbing her thumb over it, she feels a dull ache and wonders how she hurt herself and more importantly, who bandaged her up. As the loosely taped gauze moves up toward the knuckle, she turns her hand over to inspect the damage. Her heart plummets to the bottom of her stomach and she lets out a raucous laugh. Of course, she thinks. There, tatooed around the ring finger of her left hand, “SIDNEY.”

Madness!


	2. Wake up, Sleepyhead.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let's meet Sidney. He is shocked to find that Charlotte has left. And he has a doozy of a back story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU. Your feedback is incredible. Hope this chapter does not disappoint.

Chapter 2

Wake up, Sleepyhead

Sidney wakes and immediately moves to grab Charlotte, hoping she’ll make the same whimpering moans she did last night when he slowly caressed her beautiful, ample breasts for the first time. He wondered if she’ll wake from his touch, as his hand meets any empty, tangled pile of sheet next to him. She must be in the bathroom, he thinks, and rolls over to grab the menu and check the time while he waits for her to return. 8.05 am. He squints at his phone thinking it must be a mistake. Sidney hasn’t slept past 6 am since high school. No matter when he gets to sleep, and no matter what time zone, like clockwork, his body gets him up every morning at 6am; maybe 6.30 on the mornings after he goes hard on the single malt with his boys, but 8 am is new indeed. Another thing to thank Charlotte for. His Charlotte. He scans the breakfast menu and wonders if she eats carbs and hopes pancakes mean as much to her as they do to him. As he contemplates whether she is a coffee or tea in the morning kind of woman, he sees Charlotte’s dress is no longer dangling over the armchair where he relieved her of it last night. He gets up and checks the bathroom. No Charlotte. 

Maybe she went to get coffee he tries to convince himself as he realizes the incandescently beautiful creature from his dreams; the woman he had first spied over two years ago and was determined to meet ever since; the same woman he passed by every morning in the lobby at his office – and who the universe saw fit to place at the same blackjack table as him last night – was gone. 

Staring at the rumpled bed where his long-held dreams came true last night, he thought back to the first time he saw HER in the lobby of his office building. 

_If Sidney was being honest with himself, he hadn’t seen her as much as got walloped by her beauty. Entering the Times-Square offices of Morgan Sachs as he did every morning, he turned to hold the heavy glass door to the lobby for woman clacking her heels behind him. It was her eyes that stopped him in his tracks and wiped his brain clean of common sense. Her big brown pools of wonder and innocence were looking up at him with thanks; they invited you to dive in and luxuriate in their warmth and let the velvety softness envelope you. He was struck dumb. He watched HER pass him through the open door, his eyes following HER as she disappeared into the crowd of people scampering up to their offices. That was it. He was ensorcelled._

_He looked for HER every morning after that. Almost a whole week later her caught sight of HER again, swiping her badge through the security turnstile to the same elevator bank he used. This time, as his eyes surveyed the rest of her petite yet curvy form, he got stuck on her breasts. They were…..spectacular. As his friend Crowe would say not so gallantly, she had a booming system. As he lost himself in the two rolling hills covered by a form fitting black dress that hit demurely under the knee, and framed by a short unbuttoned charcoal grey cardigan, she walked past him to the open elevator door shaking her head at the bozo currently ogling her breasts. He realized a second too late that he was staring and worse that she caught him. He stood there motionless as the elevator doors closed carrying the subject of his recent but frequent fantasies up and away from him. She was gone and along with her went his chance to flash his office-renowned smile or use his panty-soaking morning voice to advantage._

_The third time he saw HER, was the very next morning. She had air-pods in her ears, peaking out underneath a chic, low bun of successfully tamed, voluminous chestnut hair. She was again in a black dress, this one even more fitted with a narrow row of pleats at the hem which fell mid-calf. The look was completed with a small, jewel-tone green silk scarf. How had he not noticed the graceful curve of her neck before, he wondered? She didn’t look up as she swiped through security listening intently to whatever was playing in her ears. Audible, he imagined. She was an audiobook reader in his mind._

_In fact, over the next two years he would develop an entire life for this woman. In his mind. Their life. Together. He imagined his first date with HER. Traveling to his favorite island in the Indian Ocean with HER. The first gift he would buy HER. What it would be like to hold HER. What his kids would look like with HER._

_Sure, he was married, but by the time she first crossed his path on that early spring day his marriage was broken beyond repair. He and Eliza barely spoke and saw each other even less. His weekend visits to his brother’s house on the beach in Amagansett to play with his nieces and nephews were the source of greater and greater tension between them, and often erupted into vicious verbal attacks they both regretted less and less as time went on. With so much pent-up contempt on both their parts, they rarely touched each other. And when they did it was fast, vigorous bouts of hate sex that scratched an itch, but were loveless and communicated nothing but their growing disgust for one another._

_So, he was glad that he continued to have HER in his life, even if it was his imaginary life. Not that he hadn’t tried to make contact. He scoured every floor of Morgan Sachs on their shared elevator bank from 29 through 46. Despite covering every square-inch he never found HER. Where did they keep HER locked away? Without knowing her name, the company directory was useless and prompted a slew of emails from him to the head of security insisting pictures be added to the online employee profiles._

_With no real leads, and not wishing to include anyone else in his quest, he was left to develop their burgeoning relationship alone. In his head. Punctuated by lobby sightings which never seemed to present the right set of circumstances to approach HER. But added color to his increasingly vivid visions of a loving domestic life filled with the ease of compatibility and the hope of shared dreams. And lots of tender and passionate sex._

_As his idealized relationship with the HER was blossoming, Sidney’s real-life relationship gasped its last breath. Had he not been so distracted by his vivid fantasy life with HER, he may have realized that even the hate sex had stopped. Their life as a couple was a series of appearances at social events, passive aggressive cohabitating and more and more conflicting travel schedules. In fact, the day of that fateful encounter with HER, it had been over two weeks since he and Eliza had been in the same city. They would text from various locations around the globe, letting the other know they had landed. For Sidney is was meetings with investment banking clients in London, Hong Kong, Abu Dhabi, or Singapore. While Eliza went from fashion showrooms in Paris, Toronto, and Buenos Aries to apparel factories in China and Macau._

_When Eliza texted Sidney a full-length nude selfie, her legs spread and her newly plumped lips open just enough to spot the tip of her tongue, he knew it was not meant for him._

_And when she didn’t follow up with a second text or a call, it only confirmed he was not the intended recipient. Three days later Sidney arrived home from the Middle East to their Park Avenue apartment to find Eliza in her closet, packing a bag for her next trip._

_In an uncharacteristic bout of honesty, Eliza told Sidney she had met someone on a plane during her quarterly trip to the factories in China and had been carrying on for months. Sidney didn’t ask any questions. He just packed a suitcase and retreated to the Lowell Hotel a few blocks away. After that, he filled his days with work, his evenings with more frequent boxing matches, and his nights with ever more detailed fantasies of domestic bliss with HER._

_As his divorce dragged on and got more and more contentious, he began planning his first encounter with HER._

_He imagined their first conversation, he mustering-up the courage to talk to her as they waited for an elevator. They would begin talking and miss several open elevators so engrossed in their conversation and each other. He took HER to La Piccola Cucina on their first date and they talked and drank and ate until closing and then walked around the city until dawn._ _He waited a respectable amount of time before he invited her to spend the night, but after that, she was a permanent fixture there and the doormen and hotel staff let her up without question._ _Their lovemaking was tender, slow, unguarded and non-stop. They laid in bed for hours holding each other, talking laughing, ordering room service. She was honest, insightful and funny. They shared their dreams, fears, and past sorrows. She quieted his tears and stoked his desires with her gentle care and seemingly unconscious seductive manner._

_Though initially timid, her confidence and daring grew. Especially in the bedroom. And the shower, and the kitchen, and his desk, in his car, while he was on conference calls with Tokyo or Hong Kong in the middle of the night. Her new-found boldness was so sexy and he demonstrated his gratitude often. He had always been a skilled and enthusiastic lover, but she was such a rare and delicate treasure, he was more attentive and more focused on her needs and desires than was his usual practice. There was nothing usual about HER, or their bond._ _It was a loving and erotic relationship built on mutual respect, amazing sexual chemistry, and deep, deep love._

_Of course, this was all in his head._

_A year or so after he had first been awestruck by HER, he still hadn’t spoken a word to her. His imaginary domestic life grew more committed, their lovemaking grew steamier and more hypnotic. She aroused in him a deep passion, tempered by the need to protect her and cherish her body. He pledged to make her feel as loved and protected and happy as possible. He just needed to introduce himself._

_In reality, his closest friends – best friends since business school, Crowe and Babbers – saw a brooding, lonely man desperately trying to extricate himself from his shrew of an estranged wife. They worried about him. They knew him as a loyal friend who put family first. A doting uncle to his nieces and nephews who craved a family of his own. His monastic existence did not radiate peace. It was self-flagellation by way of deprivation. They’d never seen him like this. Sydney was someone who enjoyed the spoils of success, both the sacred and the profane. Now he worked all the time, fitting in boxing matches in any city he found himself in and little else._

_They pushed him to use her adultery as a bargaining chip to help move things along; to audit her financials in the exact manner she had forensic accountants foraging through his assets; to barrage her with procedure and paperwork in retribution for the eight years of heartache and neglect. To break her and force her to concede._

_Sidney just wanted out. He believed the fasted way to move on from his failed marriage was to fold to her every demand. Every audit of his investment portfolio, every appraisal of their substantial art collection, he never contested the findings. He gave her the house in Telluride, and the Park Avenue apartment – he certainly never wanted to go back there. But the less he fought, the nastier she and her lawyers became. It was a game Sidney did not have the energy or interest in playing and thus didn’t bother to learn the rules._

_For Eliza, the game was the essence of it. She didn’t want him back. She didn’t even love him and is not sure if she ever did. She wanted what he prized most. She wanted to find out what it was he couldn’t live without and then take that. Then she would be satisfied. But he surrendered every possession, and acquiesced to ever demand so easily, it was like there was nothing she could take from him that meant anything. She silently vowed to dig until she found it. That’s when she will have won._

_By the time Eliza finally and mysteriously stopped her demands Sidney was surprised at how easy and fast the rest of the divorce proceedings were. The court approved the submissions, they did not even inquire into the particulars of the financial settlement. When you give your ex-wife everything she asks for, there’s not much to discuss._

_To celebrate his hard-fought freedom, Crowe planned an old-fashioned boys’ weekend in Vegas. The brat pack with MBAs back in Vegas for a weekend of drinking, gambling, and women was just what all three of them needed, albeit for different reasons. But this trip would be about Sidney and helping him get his swagger back._

_Sidney went to his lawyer’s office Thursday morning to sign the final decree and by 3 pm that day he was divorced and heading to Teterboro to board Babber’s new G6._

_Sidney was genuinely looking forward to the weekend. He hadn’t blown off steam outside the boxing ring in over two years. But he knew he needed to mark the end of this chapter of his life. Commemorate the day he could start over._

_Crowe was just stoked to be getting out of New York and away from a much-too-clingy waitress-yoga instructor-dog walker-model-actress he’d met around closing time a few nights earlier. Crowe was never one for relationship drama. Vegas would be teeming with prospects and no pretense of having feelings or developing attachments._

_And Babbers, he was excited to take the plane across the country. It was his latest toy and while he was embarrassed with the opulence of private travel, pulling up to the steps of the plane and having take-off whenever you give the nod, was not torture. In fact, he quickly assimilated to the practice and believed its ease was merely civilized and not the demonstration of excess from the upper quartile of the one percent. Plus, the tech geek in him was fascinated with all the computers and technology used to fly the plane. He spent a good deal of the flight up in the jump seat in the cockpit with the pilot watching the systems operate the plane seemingly unassisted by human action._

_When in Vegas, they always stayed at the Four Seasons – a boutique hotel consisting of several ultra-luxurious floors perched above Sanditon Place, another high-end, but less exclusive hotel with a large performance center and high-end shopping mall attached. Upon arrival, they dropped their bags and went straight to the tables. Blackjack always eased Sidney into Vegas. The low stakes table helped him stretch his betting muscles. Preparing him for the high-stakes poker tables he and Babbers favored. And where they both often lost their shirt. Babbers let Sidney and Crowe test out their training wheels while he turned and headed straight for Texas hold’em. Selling his start-up to Apple had been a tough decision. But the $100 million proce tag certain helped ease his worries._

_Armed with a single malt and five grand in chips, Sidney and Crowe were a few hands in when the tenant of the seat to his left pulled a 7 card bringing his hand to 22, swore loudly and abruptly left the table. The intoxicating scent of Gardenia gently announced the new occupant of the seat next to him. Crowe was playing next to Sidney on the right and elbowed him without subtlety and nodded his head in the direction of the new player. Annoyed with Crowe’s obvious approach to meeting women, Sidney turned to the left and immediately felt his heart race, palms sweat, and tongue swell. It was HER._

_There was no mistaking it. He had memorized every inch of her over the past two years. The dimple in her chin, the long lashes above her eyes, the light smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose and cheeks. Even though her typically chic and tidy bun was gone, the voluminous wild head of chestnut curls cascading over her shoulders was just like in his dreams. Her eyes were still those deep welcoming pools he dreamed about nightly. They were inviting. But they exuded something else tonight. Confidence. A provocative and mirthful expression graced her face and it was unapologetically sexy. She looked like a woman who not only enjoyed the attention she garnered, but had so much experience with it, she met it with ease and amusement._

_There was no doubt in his mind. This was his night. His moment. What he did with this opportunity would dictate the course of the next chapter of his life. And the universe had placed HER squarely at its center of his unfolding story._

From that moment at the blackjack table until Charlotte secreted out of his room while he slept, they spent every minute of the night and early morning together. And it was better than any of Sidney’s detailed, blissful and erotic fantasies. It was the beginning. Their beginning. 

He could not start the rest of his life without her. Now, he just needed to find HER. Charlotte. His Charlotte. His new wife.


	3. Walk of Shame

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charlotte tries to piece the night together....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you guys!!!!! Love the comments. Thank you. I have a sparse outline of this story, but each chapter kinda writes itself. So what happens next is anyone's guess.

Chapter three

Walk of Shame

Charlotte’s heart was pounding with the discovery of the new tattoo and its likely implications. “Nice going Heywood, you’ve checked all the boxes on the Vegas cliché how-to list,” she said to herself as she quickly scrolled through her phone hoping her text messages might help her piece together the last 12 hours.

10.30 pm – Clara: He’s hot! 

10.37 pm – Clara: Do you know him? He is so into you. Look up from your hand -- we came to have fun, remember?

10.38 pm – Clara: Check out his friend sitting next to him? I may need to help you with this one.

Charlotte’s mind flashes to the blackjack table. Charlotte knew nothing of gambling but could count to 21 so it seemed the obvious place to start. And, in fact, Clara did make herself known to the two gentlemen to her right. 

The guy playing next to me must be Sidney, she guessed rubbing the bottom of her ring finger with her thumb. SIDNEY. He was shy, she recalled. And terrible at blackjack. Almost as bad as she was. As they sat there losing hand after hand, he turned and smiled. “Not our night, I guess,” he said with a softness that seemed out of place in a busy Vegas casino and required Charlotte to move closer to him, bending her neck and positioning her ear closer to his mouth. “Not our night,” he repeated. Charlotte turned to face him now, but didn’t move away, leaving her only a few inches from his lips, which looked soft and appetizing. “The night is young,” she offered bringing her shoulder around to take the place of her face in front of his lips. “Anything can happen,” she smiled, looking down at her drink. “Let’s hope so,” Sidney added as he motioned for a waiter to bring him another scotch. “What are you drinking,” he asked her, genuinely curious about the answer and not solely for the waiter’s benefit. “Dirty Gin Martini. No double meaning," she said pointedly, “I like briny things.” He gave her a look of approval and nodded to the waiter with a, “thank you.” 

He relaxed his posture, lowered his head and with a slight tilt to the right offered “I’m Sidney,” somewhat bashfully, and bowed his head. That’s right, Charlotte thought, I am the Alpha dog you will defer to me, returning his smile and shaking his outstretched hand. She was not prepared for how rugged…almost gnarled his hands were. Not that softer hand would have been remarkable. In fact, that’s just the point – how does such a pretty, well dressed, clearly successful man get such well-worn hands? They looked older than he did. The surprise intrigued her. It felt good in her hand and their shake lasted several beats longer than these things traditionally do. 

She imagined his hands felt good on her body, too. The scratchy, calloused palm exploring her edges and tracing her curves. 

“Charlotte! There you are. Introduce me to your new friend,” instructed a statuesque Clara, who looked every inch the model she once was in a tight red dress and matching stiletto sandals. Her blond curls untamed just the right amount to appear seductive, not disheveled. 

Charlotte was about to introduce her, when she caught Sidney still looking at her intently. She immediately felt the throbbing want coursing through her body straight to her nipples that became erect as he sought her gaze and held it, even as he introduced himself and Crowe to Clara.

The memories start to fade there for Charlotte, but the smile she has recalling the start of the evening last night does not disappear and just thinking about this moment from last night, her nipples harden. A fact her dress cannot hide, even as she sits in the back of the taxi.

Despite her pounding headache, and the gnawing rumble in her stomach, Charlotte’s immediate goal is to put on her bathing suit and lounge out by the pool this morning just as she and Clara planned. Once there, she could have some breakfast and think clearly about what was happening and more importantly what she was going to do about it.

Pulling up to her hotel she gets out of the car and stands-up. A little too quickly, apparently, and she grips the car door for balance, feeling lightheaded from the exertion. She decides breakfast and a shower were required immediately. 

Charlotte let the water pour down on her for almost 20 minutes. The water pressure was a vast improvement to her studio at The Cove. Why do they do this, she thinks? She was perfectly happy with her shower at her place…. until now. Another reason people return home from vacation and realize their real life is shit. 

Charlotte heard the loud knock and quickly wrapped herself in a robe and ran to the door to let in room-service. She was now ravenous. A double stack of buttermilk pancakes and plate of French fries, along with a triple espresso rolled in. Her go-to hangover meal. Digging in, she begins to feel less shaky and picks her phone back up to continue reading her texts. 

The next one is from Alison, her sister, which she scrolls past – she’ll read that later. Right now, she’s on a hunt for clues. 

11.58 pm – Clara: You guys look cozy. He is gorgeous. I’m definitely jealous. But he clearly only has eyes for you. His friend and I are leaving. See you tomorrow. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do. That should give you some latitude hahahahhahaha. Can’t wait to hear all about it. See you at the pool tomorrow around???????????? I’ll just text you.

That's Clara, Charlotte thought. And that's why neither of them has slept in their hotel room last night.

At some point all four of them had moved their meeting to the cocktail lounge nearby the blackjack pit. Sidney lightly grazed her back with his hand, navigating her through the crowd of the Casino and into the darker, quieter and slightly less crowded lounge. As they maneuvered through the swarms of tourists holding buckets of quarters and not-so-high-priced call girls, his hand slipped further down to rest on the small of her bare back. Her dress scooped down low, below her waist just at the curve that announced the beginning of her bottom. His hand shifted as they were guided to an intimate arrangement of plush chairs in the back. Moving from the center of her back, he wrapped his arm around her; his fingers feeling their way to the side of her waist, where the fabric reappeared and covered her abdomen and up across her chest to meet the delicate straps just above her breasts. The fabric was soft and sensual, but it was the absence of fabric and her completely exposed back that transformed the dress from simply beguiling, to aggressively seductive.

She knew what she was doing when she packed this dress. A white silk shift from Roland Mouret, it was backless and hit her mid-thigh. Two thin spaghetti straps held-up the diaphanous pieces of cloth. The silk was luxurious and by far the softest material Charlotte had ever felt against her skin. A gift from Susan when she first came to visit Charlotte in NYC after graduation. Susan had an upcoming show at Spainerman, “Abstract Allegories” and Charlotte had tagged along while she met her agent and the curator to discuss installation. Leaving the gallery, they walked down Madison avenue for lunch at Fred’s atop Barney’s, afterward making a stop on the 4th floor to see what designers were doing for the fall. 

Susan’s eyes zeroed in on the small piece of fabric that Charlotte was equally drawn to it. The sophisticated cut on the bias across the bodice was deceptive. It looks like a simple white piece of silk without structure. But the intricately cut and sewn silhouette that allowed the material to float effortless over Charlotte’s breasts and hug the curve of her round hips without clinging tightly to her body was art. The $3500 price tag made sure you knew it.

Charlotte tried it on and immediately thought it was the single sexiest dress she had ever seen. Susan thought so too as she entered the large dressing room and easily slipped it off Charlotte allowing her full access to the breasts and hips the dress seemed to worship as much as she did. 

Flushed, but unsated, Susan picked it up off the floor, left Charlotte in the changing room and had it paid for and wrapped in tissue before Charlotte could get dressed and meet her on the sales floor. They hopped in a taxi, unable to wait for an UBER, and spent the remainder of the weekend locked in Charlotte’s studio, trying to satisfy their desires. Charlotte was on a high of novelty and good fortune, she took to NYC like a duck to water and was the envy of her fellow graduates when she scored studio space at The Cove. Feeling powerful, sophisticated, and eager to experience all the magic NYC held for artists, Charlotte was in a constant state of arousal. Susan’s appetite had always been insatiable, and she could not have timed her first visit with Charlotte better. They longed for each other’s touch. In public, they taunted each other with a delicate caress or ravenous stare. Alone, their bodies undulated in an erotic pas de deux on the mattress on the floor, at times rough, others slow and sensual. All of it tantalizing yet none of it quenching their lust and yearning for each other’s bodies. 

Charlotte packed the dress in the hope it might help her experience similar pleasure this weekend. Preferably with less complication.

Her recent visits from Susan were decidedly less carnal. Susan’s proclivity to “closely-mentor” new students continued once Charlotte graduated. And without much care or ceremony, Susan talked about Aria – the fiber arts major from Seattle who was her new freshman advisee.

Charlotte saw Susan less frequently now, once her exhibition closed and Aria appeared. In the weeks leading up to Clara' invitation, Susan had texted Charlotte, letting her know she and Aria would be coming to the city and she hoped Charlotte could give Aria a tour of The Cove. Charlotte could not identify exactly how this made her feel, so best to leave it behind.

Looking at the dress rumpled on her bed, Charlotte wished in fact, the dress could talk. If could fill in the vast gaps in her memory and help her figure out what made her go from playing blackjack to getting married in less than 12 hours? And why, as she sat here in the light of day, did it not freak her out and plague her conscience as the very worst mistake she had ever made?

The memories continued. As they settled in with another round of drinks, she remembers the conversation came easy, and covered topics she didn’t realize she had opinions on. He asked her what her favorite city was in the world. That’s right…He was also from NYC and he agreed with Charlotte’s theory that the city tricks you into thinking there is no other place in the world. No need to go anywhere else and no way to live without it. New York had everything. 

He firmly disagreed with her declaration that Brooklyn was superior to Manhattan, however, and their fiery debate turned flirty with both agreeing to disagree on that one. That turned into a conversation about all the places they would live if they didn’t think New York was the center of the universe. 

God he was sexy, she thought. And the fact he had travelled pretty much everywhere in the world only added to his allure. He spoke of local restaurants in Bangkok where he was the only white person in the place. Helicopter rides surveying building projects in the deserts just outside Dubai. The smell of the croissants baking at sunrise from Poilane on the Rue Debelleyme in Paris, just outside the Marais. He seemed especially taken as he discussed the empty white sand beaches in Mauritius, and the indescribable shade of blue of the water there.

Charlotte hung on every word and conjured up every location in her mind as he spoke. The allure of travel for Charlotte was to fully experience everything about a location completely – the less like her daily life, the better. She travelled to disappear. To escape the constraints and limits of the day-to-day and let each new location appeal to the parts of her that are nourished by its sights, sounds, smells, energy and rhythms. 

She had done less travel but talked about her time in Bucharest during an extended study in Cornelia Petrea’s studio her junior year. Afterward, she flew to Milan to meet up with Susan for a week, and from there, took the train to London, to spend the summer with RISD friends as they closed out their semester abroad. That was almost four years-ago and she hadn’t used her passport since.

Dancing! At some point in the night she remembers making him take her dancing. Her mind flooded with an image of flashing lights in a dark room, pulsing music vibrating through her, and the feeling of his hands again on the small of her bare back. 

How did we wind up dancing, she thought? At some point they must have left the lounge (how many more martinis did she have, she wondered) and went to a night club. Charlotte loved to lose herself in loud music, turn her mind over to the beat, and let her body do what it wanted. She just wished she remembered more of it from last night. 

She did remember his body was warm. As he held on to her lower back, she placed her hands on his broad chest. It was rock solid. Exactly the way she would imagine that chest she woke up next this morning would feel under her hands. They swayed and held each other. He was not a comfortable dancer, but he held her body with the confidence of a man who got what he wanted. And, as later events clearly bore out, he wanted her.

The bass of the music drowned out everything else on the dance floor, and Charlotte recalls moving in closer to him. On que, he pulled her in against his hard, angular body. She arched her back slightly and led with her hips as the distance between the two of them evaporated.

Moving to the rhythm, she ground her body against him. He was tall, and even in her excessively high-heeled, strapy sandals her hips aligned only with his upper thigh, but as she moved, she felt his arousal on her stomach.

He did not thrust his core toward her. He just looked down at her with…. what was that look in his eyes, Charlotte thought? It wasn’t sexual, it was more innocent than that. It was…. adoration. Even thinking about it now she could not help but smile and curl up wrapping her own arms around her bent knees trying to recapture the sensation. His warm embrace, his gentlemanly reaction to her rolling hips, the adoring look. Hhhmmm. No wonder why I married him, she thinks. 

Shit. That. 

She rubs the new tattoo again and can’t keep from smiling. Even though she doesn’t remember how it came to be there, she knows the tattoo is a wedding band. She always thought that was the most romantic ring. She never saw the beauty in expensive stones and didn’t agree with jewelry on principle – far too expensive and dripping in exploitation. No. She didn’t need a trinket to mark her vow to another. She didn’t want to be married so much as fused together. And a permanent declaration that she was now one part of a greater whole seemed the only symbol of her complete and immutable choice. 

Poor guy, she thinks, he’s probably got one, too. From what she can recall, it does not exactly vibe with his important-businessman-conservative-clothes-Breitling-watch--expensive-shoes-mega-watt-smile exterior. She, on the other hand was well versed in ink. The question at RISD wasn’t if you had a tattoo, but how many. Charlotte was not so much into volume, but placement and meaning were everything to her. The right tattoo, in the right place was art. 

In that second, she remembers Sidney appreciating both the design and the placement of the narrow line of small abstract images that adorned her back, starting between her should blades and traveling the length of her spine, ending below where the dress met her lower back.

Sidney. The name suits what she remembers of him, she thinks. Warm, masculine, but not commonplace. She decided she liked it and could get used to saying it. Huh?

Married. What in the world? He is likely waking up right now thinking how do I get rid of this – the tattoo and the marriage - she thought. Her mind was too wooly and her memory too unreliable for any more decision-making. Although, clearly, she had no similar hesitation making decisions last night. 

Finishing her pancakes and french-fries, Charlotte went to change into her suit and head to the pool. 


	4. Courage, Sidney!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The search begins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so grateful for all of your comments and Kudos. Truly unexpected! 
> 
> Enjoy!

Ch. 4 Courage, Sidney. 

Well, he couldn’t stare at the empty bed all day. Whatever his next move, he needed coffee and food. He ordered breakfast for two – hope springs eternal, he thought – and contemplated taking a shower. Honestly, he didn’t want to. He was starting to question everything that happened in the last 12 hours. He looked down at his ring finger. “CHARLOTTE.” At least that was still there. He rubbed on it to see if that too would disappear and breathed a sigh of relief when the ink stayed-put. The faint remnants of her sent where left behind as well. Her arresting Gardenia perfume. The smell of her sex still on his lips. His hands. He didn’t want to wash away these reminders of her and the night they shared. Not yet.

He dressed. Deep blue selvedge jeans and Varvatos chukka’s with a midnight-blue cashmere and silk crewneck sweater. His attempt at casual. He hated professionals who tried to hold on to their college days. Dude, you chose the blue pill, dress accordingly. Although Morgan Sachs maintained its business attire policy, despite the rise of tech start-up casual and the arrival of millennials in the workplace, late nights and weekends at the bank looked like the outside patio of an L.A. coffee shop on a Tueday morning – everyone looked like they were unemployed but “working on their music.” The young associates at Morgan Sachs eschewed Khaki’s and a golf shirt on summer Fridays, instead they turned up in worn jeans, tired vintage t-shirts and – inexplicably – wallet chains.

Not him. Sidney knew he was square, he might as well lean into it. He had been incredibly successful in his short career, the youngest person to make managing director in the Investment Banking division, consistently over-performing, with his practice group bringing in more revenue than the next two industry groups together. Project Finance. Not as sexy and those Media and Entertainment pricks, or over-hyped and over-inflated like the Technology group, but something Sidney was well suited for. He flew all over the world helping governments, Companies and NGOs raise money to build much needed infrastructure. New cellular telecommunications hardware in Ghana, water desalinization plant and pipelines in Dubai, elevated highways and paved roads in rural India. This is the work Sidney loved. He’d much rather bring Ghana into the wireless age than help Disney acquire another small, upstart competitor studio to further their market dominance in the 19-35 year-old content consumers demographic. Sidney built things. And even though he knew many of these projects where built with immigrant labor exploitation – or, more directly, modern day slavery, he believed, on balance, he was helping to improve the lives of people who lived in these countries. At least that what he told himself.

His food sat untouched, but he went straight for the coffee cup as he scrolled through his texts. Maybe she left him a text? Unlikely as they never exchanged telephone numbers. There was no need. Neither one of them ever planned to spend another night without the other. No unknown numbers appeared, so he opened one of what he knew would be a typical late-night missive from an increasingly inebriated Crowe.

12.02 am – Crowe: Steller night, Parker. Stellar talent there too, I’d say you are officially over Eliza. Anyway, you guys look a little too intense for some Vegas fun. Don’t bore her with your “composing a life” self-help philosophy shit you droned on about on the plane here. Take her dancing, grab her ass, and bring her back to your place. That's an order. 

12.04 am – Crowe: I didn’t plan this weekend for you to give a TED talk. Get it!

12.05 am – Crowe: Blondie and I are gonna move this to a quieter location and see what happens. Last I saw Babbers he was running a very cold streak at the Baccarat table but enjoying the company of the red-head croupier. She seemed to be unimpressed. Wonder if he dropped “my G6” to close the deal. 

12.05 am – Crowe: Happy Divorce!!!!!!!!!!

Crowe. He was a scoundrel, but he knew how to deaden the ache in his soul with booze, women, and high-stake games. Sidney envied his blithe and irresponsible attitude, sometimes. 

But not now.

Signing those divorce documents yesterday brought Sidney out of a dark tunnel. No more feeling sorry for himself. By the time Babber’s plane landed in Vegas, he was committed to starting this next chapter of his life. He wasn’t going to hide from the parts that disappointed him and pout like a child who didn’t get what asked Santa for. If he wanted his life to different, he was going to attack his mistakes head-on and work until he had exactly what he wanted from life. 

First. He had to stop fighting. Boxing? He was a grown-ass man, he thought, what was he doing in underground fight-clubs? For the first time in a long time he had no pain to numb or betrayal to forget. He felt light and more carefree than he had in eight years.

Next, he had to move out of the hotel and buy an apartment. Something near the park. With a couple of bedrooms for a wife and kids. A real home.

And, lastly, he had to do it. He must meet HER. He was going to screw his courage to the sticking place, introduce himself and ask her out. That was his plan. 

And the universe approved. Clearly. How else can you explain that not two hours after landing in Vegas, he was seated next to HER. This was no random occurrence. There was an underlying order involved in the seemingly serendipitous meeting. Chaos Theory applied to love.

And no sooner did he muster the courage to talk to her– however shaky and awkward he was – that she challenged convention and contradicted almost all of his assumptions. In his fantasies, she held a typical but respectable corporate job. She worked at an Investment Bank, so that was a safe bet. Maybe a corporate researcher in the library. Or a mathematical genius who was locked away with all the MIT PhDs and did macro-economic analysis for the firm. The Morgan Sachs Foundation, perhaps, when she gave money away to museums and food banks. An enjoyable job, one that could be a career. If necessary. But, her first plan would be to escape the 9-5 world shortly to marry and have kids. Isn’t that what most women wanted?

Terribly misogynistic, he knew this. Sidney had the good sense to be ashamed of his white male privilege. But it still came naturally. Women he knew were after a man to bring them status, money, and ease. So, he extrapolated. While he ascribed to her the rare virtues that he admired such as intellect, humility, and a wry sense of humor that set her apart from “other women,” he did not credit her with dreams, beliefs or life goals too dissimilar than his own. She struck him as less interested in the money and status part, but he’d assumed a family was the ultimate goal. And secretly hoped he was the man to help her achieve that goal. 

So, when she turned up next to him at the casino table with her hair down and wild, that tiny dress, and an unspeakably sex tattoo down her back, he chuckled to himself and realized he lacked any real imagination to speak of. Because he had her pegged wrong. Very wrong. 

Entirely original and completely unlike any woman Sidney had ever met, the air around her crackled with an intensity and allure that made his fantasies feel like the musings of a teenager with braces who plays a mean game of dungeons and dragons in his friend’s basement. And had never talked to a girl.

She exuded a sophistication social climbing woman aspired to, but never quite achieved because of the weight of their material ambitions. She possessed a sexual and intellectual confidence that made it hard for Sidney to breath when close to her. Far from a corporate 9-5er, she had a huge, vibrant world she inhabited with gusto and that had nothing to do with Morgan Sachs or banking, or stock options, career advancement, or anything he clung to for security and identity. Could she be even more amazing than the idealized woman from his greatest fantasies? 

Simply put, yes. 

This was not the woman of his dreams. Sidney realized after a few minutes in her presence that she was more than he had ever wanted in a woman. And he was left wondering if he could ever be enough for her. As he led her to the lounge for another drink, guiding her with his hand placed gently on her bare lower-back, trying hard not to grab her more forcefully and move his hand to touch the skin he could not see, Sidney committed to learning everything he could about this woman, and proving to her - and himself- that he could one day be worthy of her.

Replying to Crowe’s messages, Sidney began his search for his wife.

9.15am – Sidney: Crowe

9.15am – Sidney: How’d it workout with Blondie? I need her hotel and room number or better yet, her friend’s cell number….Roll over and ask her, would you?

9.15am – Sidney: Now.

9.15 am – Sidney: Please.

With that, he downed the last of his triple espresso, shoved his room key into the pocket of his jeans and made his way to the Wynn Hotel and Casino – where it all began last night. 


	5. Clarafication

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let's meet Clara. Tragic, tragic, Clara.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We will get back to our regularly scheduled Sidlotte sexy angst-athon shortly, but now, a word or two about the people who made this trip possible.

Chapter 5

Clarafication

Clara, too, woke up in a bed that was not her own. With a man she had just met last night. However, Clara reveled in the memories of her night with the man sleeping next to her. The seduction, intense sex, the gentle cuddling as the sun peered over the mountain range in the distance outside the hotel window, even the sweet way he held her close while he slept. He exceeded her expectations on all fronts. She had already scoped him out when she had Charlotte’s friend introduce her, and he wasted no time in demonstrating his charms. He was not a stranger to the pick-up line and had clearly mastered the art form. And Clara was no stranger to being picked up. She came to Vegas looking for fun, and Crowe was definitely that. They clicked instantly. While there was an excess of flirting, there was not an excessive amount of talking. He shared little of himself, but coaxed out of Clara, more than she had ever shared with a man about herself. He was more serious than he pretended to be and more caring and proper than his lady-killer persona could hide. He was a generous and gentle lover, and a great listener. Even after sex. Clara cuddled right back into the curve of his body and drifted off while replaying the events from last night in her mind. She could stand a few more hours of sleep before what she hoped would be a repeat performance of last night.

_Clara’s path to Morgan Sachs was a circuitous one, and not lacking in the drama department. When she was 15 and sitting backstage at the Dries Van Noten runway show in Paris, she knew she should not have done that third line of coke. Most of the other first-timers to the Paris runway circuit had their mothers there to chaperone. The top agencies insisted upon it for any girl under 16. Clara’s mother, Paulette, was home in Texas. Her husband refused to let her travel with Clara. He seemed to refuse to let her out of his sight._

_Her mother married Eddie when Clara was eight, after Clara’s dad died in a drunk driving accident. It was a Friday night, and Clara’s dad Bob, was in his usual barstool at Sam’s, the bar right outside the gates of the refinery where he and the majority of men in a 50 miles radius worked. It was just like any other Friday, the place filled with men as their shifts ended, all looking to spend their paychecks and find a little relief from the only life they knew how to have. After several beers Bob headed home to have dinner with his wife and family. He turned onto the highway and drove right into oncoming traffic, taking with him a young teacher heading home from school, and a minivan filled with half a little league team on their way to a night game._

_After the autopsy, it was determined he had a blood alcohol level of .09. Technically drunk, but a far cry from get-on-the-highway-going-the-wrong-way kinda drunk._

_An affable enough man, he lacked any greater ambition that working at the refinery, retiring at 65 and enjoying his golden years fishing on a boat in the lake country about 200 miles west from where they lived. He married his high school sweetheart, went to work at the refinery after graduation, and quickly welcomed two sons into the world, while each time praying for a girl._

_And five years after the last kid, he got one. His wife named her Clara after Clara Bow, the silent film star, but she was his girl. The apple of his eye. The true center of his world, who curled up on his lap after work every day and called out for him in the middle of the night when her dreams scared her. She was six when her mom told her he went up into the clouds. She looked up to try and find him every day for years thinking she might catch him float above the puffy white puffs she imagined were like trampolines. As she got older, she used to ask to take a plane somewhere. Anywhere she just wanted to go up in a plane and see him again. It didn’t matter where she landed. Daddy’s Girl._

_And here she was in Paris, naked, coked-up, and being dressed by two stylists who were drinking champagne and speaking in Italian. Without adult supervision, Clara grew up quickly, emulating the older models who took her under their wing and taught her how to make a name for herself in the business. They were 19 and had steady careers, mostly runway and catalog. Their recipe for success was built primarily on sleeping with photographers and letting the agency send them out “to accompany” men who preferred transactional arrangements with a pretext of wooing and romance. Fantasy girls. It paid the rent between runway and catalog season. Or until you got your first cosmetics contract. That’s what her model-mentors told her so that is exactly what she did._

_That cosmetics contract never came for Clara. She was an apt pupil, and by 19 she had slept with all the major (and minor) photographers in Paris, Milan and London. Her coke habit could no longer be hidden with a good foundation and photoshop, and the work dried up._

_In a shocking blast of clarity that Clara fully believed was divinely inspired, she declared she was not going to go out like that. She spent her last 30 grand on rehab, spent a few months crashing at some of her more successful friend’s apartments, and applying for any job where she could get herself in close proximity to rich men. When one of her model-mentors married an investment banker, Clara asked her friend if her husband could get her a job. Three weeks later she was an assistant on the trading floor at Credit Suisse. Fetching coffees, booking travel, and getting sexually harassed by every trader on the floor. After six months, one of the assholes on the commodities desk was jumping ship and bringing his clients to Morgan Sachs. He asked if she wanted to come along and be his personal assistant. She negotiated a huge raise then said yes, and after a full year of rebuffing unwanted and downright graphic advances from her boss, she applied for an internal posting for a job in the Media and Entertainment Investment Banking group. She waved goodbye to the losers in the firm’s fourth floor trading pit and took the elevator to 42. Investment Banking. Where the real players play._

_She was a hit in her group, and soon became the chief client liaison, birthday gift buyer for the bankers’ wives, and party planner. Marketing Manager in corporate speak. A job tailor-made for Clara and one that gave her access to some of the most successful men at the bank, and in media and entertainment._

_Currently, she was dating the VP of business development at NBC Universal. But he had just been transferred to L.A., so she was evaluating her options. A work trip to Vegas was the perfect distraction. And the aloof art school grad who did all the graphics work and made the group’s client presentations the gold-standard at the bank, was by far the coolest person she could think to bring. Clara befriended Charlotte one her first day. A not so successful placement from a temp agency, Charlotte was sent to cover the desk of the Head of Media and Entertainment Investment Banking. His last assistant quit. The day before. Without notice. Pattern with his assistant apparently. And, assisting was clearly not one of Charlotte’s talents. She couldn’t figure out the phone system, mangled the names of both the CEO of Morgan Sachs, and the Chairman of Paramount Pictures, whom she accidentally hung up on when she tried to mute herself while taking notes of on the call, as she was instructed._

_Clara showed her where the cafeteria was and took her for a drink after work. She worried Charlotte would be distraught and not come back the next day. Instead, Charlotte did a great impression of the department head screaming at her and seemed genuinely unphased by being dressed down by one of the most important people at the bank. Clara instantly adored her._

_And when she came back in the next day, she sat down at her desk and never complained, she garnered the respect of the entire floor who heard her boss screaming at her. For his part, he came out of his office, saw her sitting there again and groaned. Without a greeting, he tossed a power point deck with handwritten notations everywhere on desk and said, “clean this up. I leave for LA at 6 pm. And perhaps attend to this assignment with a little more care than you did the phones.”_

_By 4.30 pm Charlotte handed him a completely redesigned power point presentation for his AM meeting in LA tomorrow. The document was completely redesigned. Gone was the 21-page bullet point narrative of the market opportunity for the reuse of movie theatre spaces for live event telecasting using IMAX 3D technology. In its place was a series of graphics illustrating the potential market size, revenue projections set against start-up costs, even pro forma attendance for the next five years. She took the long wordy explanations of mock cases studies and visualized then using slick AutoCAD drawings of the EPL finals in 3D displayed in a theater with luxury seating and a full bar, or a new year’s eve party broadcasting celebrations from around the world up on the big screen while guests in black tie dance and mingle, enjoying food from every city the festivities are broadcast as the hours countdown. She revamped the color scheme of the presentation to the IMAX blue, grey, and white logo colors and where text was necessary, condensed the detailed analytic explanations into illustrative key statements on spare, beautifully designed backgrounds. And, impressively distilled it down to an elegant 10-page deck that was easy to follow, visually appealing, and made a more persuasive business case for the project._

_After that, there was no more yelling. Charlotte went from temp assistant to “Design Associate,” a full-time role created for her. Once the Ivy League brain trust completed their best work, she went in and redesigned every pitch book and presentation before it was sent to a client. Her template and style guide were highly coveted and considered proprietary to the Media and Entertainment group._

_That was her entire job. She didn’t care, this was first year digital design work at RISD, and she was paid handsomely, had health insurance, and went home every day at 5pm. It gave her the time, headspace, and money to indulge her creative life, and continue to develop her voice as an artist._

_Clara admired her “I don’t give a shit” attitude, but even more, Charlotte was utterly dis-interested in the Morgan Sachs dating pool, so she was no threat to Clara. The perfect lunch buddy and drinks wingman. When Clara needed to do a site visit in Vegas, she could think of only one person to bring along to have some fun. Plus, she’d love to see another side of this office outlier. Clara suspected she was way more adventure-loving than the Morgan Sachs drones. Clara had high expectations for her little girls’ weekend with Charlotte._

Meanwhile, Crowe heard Clara stir and prayed to god she would gather her clothes and skip out before he “woke.” Last night had been fun, but he didn’t do mornings after. Ever. And certainly not in Vegas. He thought he felt her move away on the bed, and he was calculating how long it would take her to dress and leave. But not 30 second later she was tucking herself back up against his body. She smelled of jasmine and her warm skin felt good pressed against his chest. Another few hours of sleep couldn’t hurt, he thought, as he flung his arm over her waste and pulled her close.

But then she must leave. Crowe needed his space. 


	6. All I do is Wynn...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We are getting there. Hold on. But first, we need a bit more about our background players.....

Ch 6. 

All I do is Wynn....

Charlotte was feeling better after her hangover breakfast and sent a text off to Clara:

9.16 am – Charlotte: C – where are you? I had an insane night and need your help piecing it back together. I will be by the quiet pool. Come find me.

9.17am – Charlotte: btw, stealing your big floppy sun hat – who actually owns one of these things?

Charlotte knew she was not going to be able to stand the heat and the sun simultaneously. She’d find some shade, a lounge chair and maybe even take a nap.

***

The quiet pool was bustling. Still, Charlotte found a shaded lounge chair and Dan, a friendly pool attendant helped her set up, covering the chair with towels and even grabbed her plastic cup of chilled cucumber water. 

“Bless you,” Charlotte said, thanking the young man profusely. 

“Can I get you anything else, Mrs…….” he responded

What is he talking about? Right. “Uh…Charlotte. No thank you.”

“Very well. Enjoy your morning, Mrs. Charlotte,” the attendant turned and walked toward a Cabana behind her to help and couple who seemed to need his excellent service more than Charlotte did.

Charlotte smirked. Mrs. Charlotte. No less absurd than Mrs… Holy Shit. I don’t even know my husband’s last name. I guess that means I don’t know my own last name, Charlotte teased herself. 

Oh, how she wished it was that easy. While in the elevator she scrolled through the rest of her unread messages. Milo, sent three.

11.01 pm - Milo: Bonsoir, mon belle fille? Comment s’est passé ton voyage en avion? Tu me manques mon amour. appelez-moi avant de vous endormir. 

Even in text, she could hear Milo’s sexy accent and see his puppy-dog bedroom eyes looking up at her. I am only his belle fille when he needs something, Charlotte thought, surprised the next text came over an hour later.

12.23 pm - Milo: Tu as fumé le joint que j’ai laissé dans le panier du comptoir de la cuisine?

12.27 pm – Milo: Je l’ai trouvé.

And there it is. Milo was beautiful and did insane things with his tongue, but ultimately, he was someone who always needed care and feeding. The “I’m just a helpless French boy alone in New York” shtick was effective when Charlotte first arrived. She excitedly unlocked the door to her new studio/living space to find a skinny man in tight black jeans that still managed to sag far enough down his bum you could see his underwear, asleep on the floor, head resting on a balled-up leather jacket, an ashtray, pack of cigarettes, and a phone next to his head. Behind him, against the wall with floor to ceiling casement windows of her new studio was a tool cart on wheels filled with power tools, rags, a welding mask, cylinders of glass in green and brown – like huge, colorful florescent light bulbs – and what looked like some clothes hanging off the bottom shelf. Next to it was a dolly with several moving boxes on it. It was 12.45 pm and Charlotte and her dad had driven up from Baltimore that morning. Her dad was already making subtle digs at the neighborhood and lack of parking as Charlotte left him circling the block while she sprinted in the building, unable to wait….Thank god, otherwise he’d have been there when she opened the door to this scene, Charlotte remembers, chuckling.

Apparently, Milo was the last tenant of this space, but was evicted for not paying over a year’s-worth of the very-cheap-for-New-York rent. When Charlotte kicked his foot to wake him, he was startled but charming, nonetheless. He apologized profusely, explained he was “between ah paht ments” and just needed to store things here until his new place became available. 

Charlotte offered to buy him a coffee from the café next door. Anything to get him up off the floor and out of her studio before her dad caught up to her. That anecdote illustrating perfectly Milo’s superpower – getting others to take care of him even if they didn’t think they were. It was a perfect example of their relationship. He was helpless and sexy, Charlotte was inherently kind and thoroughly turned-on by his accent and angular features, covered by a head of chin length, jet-black uncombed hair. He reeled her in immediately. Over the next two years he would stay with Charlotte for weeks on end and then disappear for a while, always coming back sexy, horny, and in need of a favor. His shit still piled up in the corner of the huge studio to this day. 

While Charlotte was not indifferent to his charms, the bloom was definitely off that particular rose. His shtick was getting old, and the sex didn’t seem much compensation for him crashing whenever he felt like it, eating all of her food, and his increasingly harsh critiques of her work that has been multiplying at a fierce pace – at least it had been – and filling up the studio space. 

Still, Charlotte couldn’t just end it with him. They weren’t dating, so she couldn’t break up with him. She had asked him several times to move his tools and materials from the space – “don’t you need your tools?” she asked on more than one occasion. Charlotte was not sure if he even made art anymore. His response was always, “Qui. Qui, yes, mon amour. A few days. I promise.”

She needed to cut the cord with him – Change the lock, buy some sage, and expunge his grifter energy from the studio. Along with his shit. She wasn’t sure why her artwork was not coming along, but her head, heart, and studio felt crowded. Her productivity had slowed over the past 3 or 4 months to a crawl and she could not explain it. She needed to clear away anything that was not supporting and nurturing her. 

Not just for the sake of her art. She was feeling increasingly put-upon and invisible in other parts of her life. Susan, just assuming she’d welcome her new protégé and give her a tour of The Cove? Milo showing up whenever he needed shelter and a free meal. Even at the office. The Head of the Investment Banking Division had sent her several emails about a new initiative to expand her design office to offer services to the entire division. Charlotte would get a ton of new equipment, a bigger design space out on the floor – with windows -- a huge budget to spend, and a staff to manage and train in her design “pedagogy,” as it was being referred to in the pitch. Her proposed salary was bananas and there was much talk of her “value proposition” to the Investment Banking Division and her “limitless future” with the firm. Did they not know her at all? The very thought of all that work and responsibility gave her heart palpitations. She liked her little presentation-fixer gig. Easy. No-stress. Great hours. It fit into the “how I pay my bills” box in her life. Her career was her art. Not that she needed acclaim and fancy gallery shows to feel successful. But she wanted the time and space to create meaningful work that fed her and expressed her ideas. If it moved other people that would just be an added bonus. 

Charlotte checked if Clara had responded and seeing no new texts, she curled up on the chaise lounge, put one of the many towels over her body, pulled Clara’s floppy hat over her face, and drifted off to sleep. Her last thoughts were of strong arms wrapped around her, and sweet little kisses being planted behind her ear and down the back of her neck. More of that, she thought. That’s what I need in my life. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First, thank you for all the comments and kudos. I am blown away. Second, It is all coming together. They will be reunited.. How that works out is anyone's guess.


	7. More Assumption, Mr. Parker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More memories from the night before. Peak Sidney sweetness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have I told you all how much I love reading your comments? You guys are the best. And your patience will be rewarded (I hope. I want these two together just as much as everyone else).

Ch. 7 

More assumption, Mr. Parker.

  
“Could you direct me to your pool,” Sidney asked the concierge as he entered the lobby of the Wynn? He spent a lot of money in their casino – Babbers was on their high-roller (big $ loser) list – but he had never stayed here, nor ventured outside the Casino.

“Which one, sir” replied the solicitous and very tan concierge asked?

He remembered Charlotte told him how much she loved to swim and how she planned to spend the majority of her trip at the pool. He figured he should start there while he waited for Crowe to get back to him. 

“How many are there?” he asked politely if not impatiently. 

“Five. The beach pool, with a 40-foot sand filled pool-deck. The dance pool, the DJ starts at 11 am. The family pool, for parents and kids. The indoor lap pool at the fitness center, and the quiet pool, over 21, no talking on cellphones, no music, no alcohol.”

Jesus, thought Sidney, how disgusting must that dance pool be. He didn’t even want to think about it but was sure that was not where he would find Charlotte. The lap pool or the quiet pool seemed his best bets.

On his way over to the Wynn he began to think of the reasons why Charlotte would not have stayed. Had she changed her mind? Sidney thought back to their conversations from last night. After the lounge they started walking. No destination. Just walking and talking. They found a park bench out in a replica of a French garden, with tightly pruned hedges and several fluer de lis topiaries. It was embarrassingly kitchy, but empty. They sat down and Sidney decided he need to get something out of the way up front. If he was going to make this more than a crazy Vegas weekend, he could not surprise her with his feeble attempts at stalking. That would make it actually creepy instead of just pathetic. 

“Charlotte, can I tell you something?” He opened gingerly. 

Charlotte nodded at him and moved her head to arrange her ear right next to his mouth. 

God, he loved how she smelled. And ever since they broke the ice with their debate between Manhattan and Brooklyn, they both seemed to relax and sit closer. The conversation was easy. She was this insane combination of guilelessness and sophistication. She looked at thing as if encountering it or hearing it for the first time. She was not confined with convention or any normative prejudices we all seem to imbibe through osmosis. When a man dressed in a masculine jacket and tie and a very feminine mini skirt and red stilletos came into the lounge, you could hear the murmurs and suppressed laughter. Some idiot across the way called out, “Mrs. Doubtfire’s here” to riotous laughter from his drunk buddies. Charlotte turned to me and said “his legs look great. It’s the rest of us who have some insecurity about our sexuality we are projecting on to him by laughing and joking.” And went right back to asking me about what it was like to grow up on the beach in Amagansett? 

He loved her matter of fact way of delivering her opinion, and she gave not a thought to whether others agreed with her point of view or if they were comfortable with what she said. In Sidney’s experience, most women work hard to make others like them, or admire them, or want them. Charlotte was unencumbered by such interests. She was here to be herself, for herself. Sidney could not even imagine what that kind of freedom felt like. 

Still, he was not sure the best way to broach the topic. 

“I think we work at the same firm. No, actually I know we do. I have seen you in the lobby at Morgan Sachs….that’s where I work” he stopped there, letting that sink in. His heart pounded as he watched her compute this new information. Had he really been a creep? A voyeur? A stalker? What if she thinks he followed her to Vegas, he wondered? Oh well, it has been a nice night so far. At least he knew her full name and could track her down at the office once they were back in NY. Maybe over time she can see to forgive him and understand he was much more of a nervous boy with a crush on the prettiest girl at school, than a slimy janitor drilling holes in the wall of the locker room to see the girls change after PE. He hoped. 

“I find it hard to believe I have never seen you there,” she teased. “Why haven’t you said hello? What floor are you on? The have me hidden away in an internal office, I see no one.” She was amused, he thought. Not freaked out at all. Phew. He wondered if he should tell her everything about his sightings of her, his vivid imagination, and how just seeing her in the lobby a couple times a week helped him though his horrible divorce. 

That seemed too much at the moment. There would be time. While he knew he could sit there and talk to her all night, he realized she too was going nowhere else and didn’t look like she wanted leave him anytime soon. 

“So, you’ve loved me from afar for how long, Sidney?” she giggled. She had no idea how right she was, he thought. 

“a while now. But you never gave me the time of day. You are all business. With your headphones in, and eyes down. I figured you must be a quant analyst or economist – no time for lobby chit-chat and pleasantries” he tried to tease her.

“Maybe I am just not a morning person,” she countered. 

“Nothing wrong with that,” Sidney offered.

“I know,” she said softly. Her smile returning.

“So what do you do there? Was I close?” Sidney was curious. He has wondered for years now, he needed answers. 

“Not by a long shot. But I do take your guesses as a compliment. No. I am the Design Associate for the Media and Entertainment group in investment banking. I make their presentations pretty.” 

Sidney interrupts, “you’re the deck guru?” He chastised himself internally. He had asked one of his associates to find out why those entertainment pricks’ decks always look so good. He was going to need that expertise on the new business he was pitching in eastern Europe. He figured it was some new analyst from NYU, or one of the creative Ivy’s like Brown that he was going to try and poach. This is unexpected, he thought. 

“Is that what they call me?” Charlotte laughed. She’d take it. A lot better than power point babe, or pitch-fluffer - her personal favorite. 

“Yes, that is me, in the flesh,” she said while her gaze was focusing in on his lips. Those are some lips, she thought. She wanted to feel them. Touch them with her hands, her lips. Now.

Sidney was watching her eyes so intently for signs of unease with his revelation, he did not miss her focus on his mouth. He wanted to show her all the things he has dreamed about doing to her with his mouth. To slowly brush his lips across her nipples, and lick the skin between her breasts. He wanted to taste her, to have her scent all over his tongue. He wanted to make her cum with his mouth. 

Like she knew what he was thinking she come closer to his head and just as he inched his face closer to her, she reached out and grabbed his cheek with her hand and brought his face to hers. She brushed her lips across his, lightly at first, but then moved her hand to the back of his head and pushed her lips right into his face as hard as she could. Their mouths danced together passionately and both of them gave a quiet moan as their lips parted and they sought out each other’s tongues. He moved his left hand further around her shoulder and pulled her whole body closer to him and with his right hand he scooped under her knees and pulled her onto his lap. He could feel her smile in the kiss, as she leaned her torso against his and seemed to melt right into him. They fit together like hand in glove, her petite frame fit easily in his embrace, and when they pulled their lips apart to breath, she rested her head into the crook of his neck, fitting perfectly on his shoulder, with her lips pressed to the skin on his neck, right behind his ear. 

They both took a deep breath but didn’t move. She took his hand that was sitting on her knees and pressed it up against her heart. He could feel it beating rapidly, and also enjoyed the feeling of his fingertips resting on her left breast. They stayed like that for some time. Both just holding each other. Looking at each other. And neither talking. 

After what felt like an hour, Charlotte turned to Sidney, and said, “I am so glad I have someone looking out for me there. I feel completely out of place and am very far outside my comfort zone. I started as a temp assistant – which I was terrible at – and wound up having to fix some power point that was so dense with text, they should have just written a memo. I cleaned it up, shortened it a bit, handed it in on time. And before I knew it, I was a fulltime employee. With health insurance and 401(k) matching – I didn’t even know what that was -- the HR lady was explaining it to me and I was having a hard time believing people actually saved for retirement when they were 22.” He laughed. “I like to do my work, and leave, preferably as quickly as possible.”

“Where do you go?” he genuinely wanted to know. What is her life like outside the office and does it include anyone else was all he cared about in that minute? “Home. To my studio.”   
  
“Your studio? Are you an artist?” Sidney was intrigued, and massively turned on. “I am. Graduated from RISD two years ago. I paint, use some mixed media, but all of it ends up on canvas. Morgan Sachs pays the rent, and feeds this not-exactly-staring artist" she added.

He loved the fact that she did not drink the Morgan Sachs cool-ade. He did, glass after glass, but somehow her having the strength not to assimilate or plot a career at THE best bank on Wall Street, and appearing no worse for wear, was an incredible turn on. 

She hopped off his lap, grabbed his hand, and headed to the fountain at the far end of the garden. She wanted to make a wish. He did, too. 


	8. Searchin'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lots to digest. And still no babbers love. He's up next.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love your feedback. You guys are AWESOME!!!   
> This is me signing off for the rest of the weekend. I gotta get some work done. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Ch 8. 

Searchin’

Following the signs to the fitness center, Sidney broke into a slow jog, unable to contain himself. He wasn’t sure what he was going to say to her if he found her there. He just needed to see her and hold her. To prove to himself that the night was real. That the feelings they shared and plans they made were real. That he could be that completely honest and vulnerable with someone and they would still be there, holding his hand, ready to tackle whatever come their way. Together.

Sidney could not gain entry to the fitness center without a keycard. While he wanted to rip the door off the handle, he waited not so patiently pacing back and forth across the hallway for someone to come by and open the door. An older woman, towel around her neck, Lulu Lemon yoga pants with sheer panels across the knees and sports bra looking pristine was coming out of the gym. She gave Sidney a comely smile and nodded as Sidney held the door for her as she walked past him. 

He could smell the chlorine immediately and looked for the signs to direct him. The smell brought him back to high school and 6.30 am swim practice in the unheated pool, under florescent lights, with his crotchety old coach who looked like he’d never dipped a toe in a pool, let alone won the state finals way back in 1962. He can’t think of why he stopped swimming when he got to college and thinks he should take it back up now that he was retiring his boxing gloves. 

***

“Can I see your hands,” Charlotte had asked him as they walked back inside, the late-night desert heat still too overpowering to be outside too long. Sidney offered them up in front of himself, like a magician, flipping them over to show they were empty before he began his next trick. Charlotte grabbed both of them in her hands. She moved her fingers across his bruised knuckles and crooked digits, rubbing her whole hand across his calloused palm, weaving her fingers between his. Bringing his hands up to her mouth she kissed each one and looked straight into his eyes. He didn’t need to tell her why they looked that way. Or what he was fighting for for so long that they looked like the mangled and wizened hands of an old man. As she held his eyes, she gripped his hands tighter and tighter and said, “Don’t do that anymore.”

Sidney breath caught in his throat. He always felt so powerful after a fight, the more bruising and pain left behind, the stronger he felt. But looking at her now with her admonition hanging in the air, and the compassion and understanding in those big brown eyes, he knew whatever he was fighting for he had found. His stomach settled and a slight shudder rolled through his body. Suddenly he was filled with an enormous sense of calm and well-being. They stood holding hands, facing each other for several minutes, neither breaking eye-contact.

“Time to dance!” Charlotte declared and with that kept her right hand entangled with his left and turned to find the club blaring the music with the loud thudding bass that Sidney could feel inside his ears. 

He would have followed her anywhere in that moment. And even thought his dance skills were best suited for the ballroom, he dutifully trailed behind her, resting his eyes on that damn back. My god, her body was beautiful. The image of her moving that body on the dance floor that flashed in his head made his body tingle. He vowed to swallow his pride and make an ass out of himself on that dance floor if it meant he could hold her body close and watch her move in rhythm to the music. 

***

He found the humid and stifling pool room, two Olympic-sized lanes crowded with swim caps and excessively tanned bodies making their way back and forth in something akin to uniform motion. 

He knew instantly she wasn’t there. No one under 60 was in that pool by the look of the limbs bobbing in and out of the water, and the number of sunspots spread across the backs passing him slowly as they reversed course in the wide lanes. 

He was glad to leave the thick air of that room and took a deep breath as we wound his way around the treadmills and elliptical machines to find his way to the quiet pool. He was disappointed, but undeterred. He pressed on to the quiet pool.

***

Charlotte’s phone buzzed and vibrated as she received a text message. Clara reaching out from her and Crowe’s increasingly messy love nest. Room service table strewn with decimated plates of oatmeal, fruit, toast crusts and empty glasses of pineapple juice.

She and Crowe had woke again about two hours after she snuggled back into bed, both of them sleeping well and waking up surprisingly refreshed. Since she showed no signs of leaving, Crowe told her to order them some breakfast while he went to the bathroom. He was hungry. And not a complete asshole. The least he could do was feed the poor girl before calling her an uber and getting on with his day. 

Breakfast was fun, Clara wrapped herself in a hotel robe, stretched out her legs, resting her feet on his lap as he sat across from her, surprisingly pleased with her ordering skills. Crowe had a bowl of oatmeal every morning. He found it settled the remaining alcohol left in his stomach, and helped him clean out his colon, readying his body for another night of abuse. 

She picked up his copy of the Wall Street Journal and announced, “the Khazakhstani government is looking to raise 7 billion dollars to build modern highways stretching from Tahskent to Astana and up to the border with Russia to connect with Russia’s modern roadways leading up to technology hub in Novosibirsk.” Crowe rubbed her foot on his lap and smiled, “you up on your geo-political situation in the former U.S.S.R?”

“We are bidding for this offering. We want to lead the financing. Well, the bank I work at is, not me. Our Project Finance guys have been all over us to help create a visual pitch presentation to be delivered to the Khazak government on iPad. No paper,” Clara offered matter of factly. 

“You work in investment banking,” Crowe asked, not even trying to mask his incredulity? Ignoring his low expectations, Clara was used to being underestimated, she responded, “Morgan Sachs. I work in Media and Entertainment, but this is a huge piece of business the firm is trying to win, everyone has been directed to help where they can.” 

Crowe did not know what to say. This was most unexpected information. He pegged her a shop girl. A high-end shop girl – Chanel or Cartier – but was amused by how off he was. 

Knowing he was in a hole and needed to stop digging, he recovered quickly, “Sidney works Morgan Sachs. You don’t know him?“ Clara peeked up over the paper, “Sidney. From last night? I had no idea. He kind of looked familiar, but bankers all start to kinda look the same the longer you work in the industry. Granted, he is one fine-looking investment banker. I cannot wait to hear about Charlotte’s night.”

Crowe felt that one in his gut. Fucking Sidney. Every woman Crowe talked to when he was out with him ultimately turned their attention to him. Crowe held his own, many would say his charms outstripped Sidney’s good looks. But, still, as though it’s such an immutable fact, there is no hesitation announcing it while you are having breakfast with someone else annoyed him. He swatted her feet off his lap and grabbed a piece of mango from the fruit plate. 

Stoking a little jealousy was always illuminating, Clara thought. She quickly pulled out her phone and sent off a message to Charlotte:

10.40 am – Clara: Charlotte! How’s Sidney? You still there? How have we missed him in the office? A single guy at Morgan Sachs THAT good looking? I know you don’t fancy the men at work, but damn if you didn’t capture an A plus example of the breed. I think I am going to be occupied today. His friend Crowe is diffident and noncommittal, but I can work with that. He is very cute in the morning. If I don’t see you today, tell Sidney I said hello.

Crowe pulls his phone out as Clara has clearly ended that conversation with her own texting. Crowe sees several messages from Babbers from last night, and few from Sidney this morning about two hours ago. 

9.15am – Sidney: Crowe

9.15am – Sidney: How’d it workout with Blondie? I need her hotel and room number or better yet, her friend’s cell number….Roll over and ask her, would you?

9.15am – Sidney: Now.

9.15 am – Sidney: Please.

“Guess things did not progress as planned with your girl, Charlotte,” Crowe bellowed over to Clara. The two of them eating breakfast, staring at their phones gave him a homey and comfortable feeling, and Crowe couldn’t remember the last time he did this with a woman. 

“Why? What did Sidney say? Show me?” Clara asks as she grabs for his phone. “Slow down, Blondie, and I will tell you,” he cautions as he pulls his phones back out of her grasp. He smiles as she pouts. She looks pretty sexy and she knows it. Thinking about how quickly he could get that robe off of her, Clara responds, “in a minute killer, tell me what he said.” Crowe was amused. Had she read his mind or did the hungry look in his eyes give him away. No matter, she clearly was not adverse as long as I gave her what she wanted, he thought. 

“Your girl seems to have not spent the night. Sidney wants her phone #. He asked me to ask you.” Crowe ignored the smile spreading across Blondie’s face. He feels like he’s passing notes in high school. Jesus. 

“Hmmm. How good of a friend are you? What’s her number worth to you,” Clara teased, not knowing herself exactly where she is headed with this?

Crowe hits reply, and starts typing, while reading it allowed, “Charlotte’s friend refuses to divulge the information. I am evaluating my next interrogation tactics. Stand bye.” Crowe tossed the phone on the table, picked Clara up and gently drops her onto the bed. “For Sidney, I suppose I will suffer through whatever torture you see fit to mete out,” Crowe teased as he slid onto the bed on top of her and undid the belt of her robe all at once. “The things I am willing to do for my friend,” he whispers against her lips as his hand moves slowly over her hip and under her thigh, which he grabbed forcefully and pulled around his waist. Clara pushes his boxer-briefs down over his bum and pulls them the rest of the way down his leg with her toes and flings them on the floor, while stroking her long nails across his scalp and opening her mouth to welcome his tongue…..

***

Charlotte didn’t hear her phone vibrate. She fell right to sleep, safe from the sun snuggled comfortably on the lounge chair. If she’d gotten Clara’s message, her dream might have more vibrant, but as she slept off her hang-over, she dreamed of a guardian angel watching over her. He stood there, and she could not see the details of his face, but his tall dark frame and caring eyes relieved and relaxed her as she luxuriated in his gaze. He stood next to her in front of a fountain and held her in a warm embrace. She felt safe. Understood. And had no interest in breaking his hold. 

The image shifts in an instant to a broad, bare, muscular chest below her as she rocker her hips back and forth, her breasts slick with sweat and gliding smoothly over the toned muscles. His hands are on her hips, guiding her as she rides him slowly, his lips are on her neck calling out, “Charlotte……Charlotte…….Wake up, Charlotte.” Coaxed from her lucid and more than stimulating dream, she opens her eyes and squints a bit. There is a hand rubbing her towel-covered shoulder gently up and down. She follows up the hand to a bare forearm and sweater cuff pulled up just below the elbow. Strong arms, she thinks, as she raises her gaze and finds him, the man from her dream. Tall and dark, and comforting, watching over her with a warm smile and those same adoring eyes she remembered from the dance floor. She smiles, meets his gaze and purrs sleepily, “You must be my husband.”


	9. Skill or Luck?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meet Babbers. A quick intro to the third leg of the Sandman stool.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short Babbers-focused Chapter. We will resume Sidlotte sexy-time shortly....Enjoy meeting dark horse leading man, George Babbington.

Ch 9

Skill or luck

Babington never played Baccarat in his life. A game of pure luck, and no skill, it held no allure to his mechanical, analytic engineer’s mind. Poker – seven card stud, Texas hold ‘em, five card draw – he loved them all. Computing all the potential data sets constantly in flux, was his happy place. That he frequently lost his shirt never put him off the game. Poker was a fickle muse, but Babington was loyal. When his feet turned and headed straight to the main baccarat table being run with confidence, ease and Babington thought, a little disdain, by the most stunning creature he had ever seen, he knew his brain was not in the driver’s seat. 

His body felt the long wave of crimson hair before his brain could compute the image. Her deep, emerald green eyes never looked his way, but when he saw them, his chest felt as though it was absorbing a quick jab that threw him off his natural rhythm. He grabbed the only empty seat at the table and placed $1,000 of chips on the banker. She dealt him in with no other acknowledgment and cleared his chips in similar fashion when he lost. A few more coups played out the exact same way, before she met his gaze. “You gonna mix it up a little, betting on the banker does not seem to be working in your favor,” the beautiful vision offered Babbers with a quick glance his way? “It’s working for me just fine, Esther,” Babbers responded with a giddy smile as he locked eyes with her briefly. He’d spied her name tag as he placed his first bet and had been playing around in his head with “Esther Babington” with differing syllabic emphasis ever since. “Suit yourself, Sir,” she responded as she began the next coup. “George. George Babington,” he said with more confidence than he was feeling as he placed his next bet.

Moving on, she dealt all players in, and Babbers was able to take her in in detail, memorizing each new expression she had as the game continued. As his chips ran low, she returned her attention to him, “Well, George George Babington, your luck does not seem to be changing.” “On the contrary, I think this has been a very successful start to the evening, Esther.” 

For some reason, that’s what cracked her composure. She smiled a genuine smile he had not seen on her face since he first laid eyes on her earlier that night, and it was infectious. He smiled back and for the first time that night, his bravado failed him. His face flushed, and his mouth dried up. He knew he was lost. And he was rather enjoying it.

_George had been “Babbers” since his first year at Berkshire. Born in England, his father, the late Lord Babington, also named George, was hellbent on raising his son outside the confines of the archaic, broken aristocracy of England. His son may be the future Earl of Wemyss, but he was not going to let him grow up thinking that put him at any advantage relative to anyone else. A major stumbling block to this plan? There was not a school in all of Britain that would allow him to shield his son from the inevitable special treatment and worse, “special attention” his son would garner from the school, and its students._

_Having defied the expectations and conventions of his station, George married a young beautiful American he had met working in Cape Verde in the Peace Corp in the 60s. Sending his son to the states to be educated was not the craziest idea he brought to his wife for discussion. Since his wife’s family had a bio-dynamic farm just outside Great Barrington, MA, they decided together Berkshire was the obvious choice for their 13 year-old son so he could have family close, even if his mother and father would not be._

_During his new-student orientation, George met a tall, skinny, 14 year old self-styled Casanova with a mop of light brown curls that obscured his eyes. He called himself Crowe, and it was more than 2 years later before Babbers learned his friend’s first name was Leslie. A lot quicker, Babbers would discover the long curls that flopped down his face were by design; the proctors could not tell if he was stoned if they couldn’t see his dilated pupils and the bloodshot whites of his eyes. George introduced himself to Crowe who immediately crowned him, “Babbers.” It stuck._

_When Sidney Parker showed up two years later for 9 th grade, no one dared give him a nick-name. It was a long time before Crowe ventured to use his last name, Parker, as a moniker and he breathed a sigh of relief when Sidney responded with a smile. He was taller and more muscular than anyone else in his year, and quickly it became clear he was smarter, too. The broad shoulders and defined chest were the product of his illustrious swim career and he dominated the Berkshire team from the moment he arrived. Sidney had an ease about him that George envied. He quickly introduced him to Crowe and the three of them saw each other through the trials of boarding school and beyond. The fact that Sidney was the youngest of the three – he had skipped 5th and 6th grade and arrived a high-school freshman at the tender and uncomfortable age of 13, could not have been guessed by anyone outside looking in on the inseperable friends. Sidney was a natural leader, and you would never guess his age from his stature and his poise. Two traits that would help lead him to a precociously successful life long before his fellow Berkshire graduates had figured out what they wanted to do with their lives. _

_Babbers fell in love with America – it had that hope and wonder that England lost long before he was born. A country open to new ideas, he felt unencumbered by his family name and future title. Upon graduation, he headed west. Stanford’s engineering school was his top choice, and when he arrived at the Shangri-la campus in Palo Alto, he knew he would never go back to England._

_Babbers rode the Internet 2.0 wave, and his data compression technology that allowed video and music to be transferred over the web quickly, before the broadband networks were really up and running, was a game changer. He patented his work at 21, and IBM, Microsoft, Apple and Oracle were all clients before the end of his senior year. Since he sold his first company, he has had two more successful tech companies, the last of which he sold to Apple months earlier. Since then, he was drifting. He’d set up a venture fund to invest in other start-ups but had not found the next tech-inspired problem he wanted to fix. This was the basis of all of his companies. And, until he found it, he was making himself busy with a new-found interest in philanthropy and shopping. A bayfront house in Sausalito and a penthouse atop 156 Hudson St in Tribeca (an off-market transaction, the sellers required complete anonymity in the transaction) were recent acquisitions. When Crowe informed Babbers he just bought Jay-Z and Beyonce’s New York apartment, Babbers face remained blank asking Crowe, “Are they singers?” But, his baby was the G6. The technological marvel and physics defying plane was the first private plane that could land itself and Babbers would not wait for future iterations that made Pilots obsolete._

_Left now to “feather” his impressive but very empty nests, he was bored again and needed a new project. On the plane ride over to Vegas, Sidney suggested that new project could be him and his own happiness. Babbers had images of Parker with a ponytail, sitting on the floor at an ashram, chanting in a pair of muted color MC Hammer pants. But as he locked eyes with the woman across the baccarat table from him, he understood completely what Sidney had been talking about._

Babbers was nothing if not methodical. The haste in his arrival at her table threw him off, and her searing eyes kept him from righting himself for a while. Eventually he did, and when there was a lull in the game, and several players went to try their luck at the craps table, Babbers began to lay the initial foundation. 

“How long have you been a croupier,” he asked her, figuring he’d start slow. 

“Not available. I work here to pay the bills, not get picked up by every nouveau-riche novice that comes to get fleeced by the house,” retorted Esther. 

Smiling, Babbers was immediately turned on. “Challenge accepted, Esther” and with that he walked over to the Texas hold ‘em table and left Esther genuinely shocked. For the firs time in a long time. 


	10. Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charlotte falters. Sidney proves himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am loving all of your comments -- keep them coming. We have some zigs and zags coming.....but rest-assured, Charlotte will experience the comforts of private plane travel!!!

Ch. 10

Together. 

She was covered in towels and a big floppy sun hat that he never would have pegged her owning, but he knew it was her. He’d know his wife anywhere, he laughed to himself, and was struck by just how absurd this whole thing had been. Had he lost his mind? Mr. plan everything within an inch of its life. Rational, analytical, measured. While it was sudden – some would say rash – when he looked at her, it all made sense. 

He could not conceal his smile as he sat down on the edge of her lounge chair. She was beautiful and cuddled up under layers of towels he was struck -- she looked young. Was that her hold over him? He always dated older. Partly because he was younger than his cohort -skipping two years of school had him perpetually catching-up to others. When he met Eliza, he had just started at Harvard Business School and she was a second year just back at school after a summer job at Versace in Milan. Her Italian was perfect and her sights were set on Sidney from the moment they met. He was 22, and just finished a two-year stint at Boston Consulting Group, his acculturation into corporate America, and first-hand education on the power of capital markets’ control over geo-politics was a revelation to him. He came to business school with the belief there was no higher calling that the efficient allocation of capital. Everything else in his life lined up behind that and, he believed, would fall into place. 

He didn’t pursue Eliza as much as do what he was told. She instructed him on how she wished to be courted, and he was, as ever, an apt pupil. Submitting to her direction was a relief. While he had plenty relationships before then – mostly drunken hook-ups that would last for various intervals – he felt as though his copy of the rule book was lost in the mail. Try as he would, he never could get the upper hand in dating. So, Eliza’s step-by-step guide to wooing, was a welcome crash course in what women wanted. It left him to focus on his career and create success in the one area of his life where he knew and could master the rules. Only once his rung atop the corporate ladder was secure did he turn his attention to his personal life. At that point he and Eliza had been married 5 years and despite their public-facing appearance of success and happiness, he realized he was miserable. 

Initially he thought children were the missing ingredient and obvious solution to his impending identity crisis. It was the next step in the executive’s guide to making it, if his colleagues were to be believed. When Eliza made plain her utter lack of desire for children, an about face from their newlywed dreams and promises, he closed down. If he now found Eliza shallow, self-centered, and unfeeling, she was only behaving as advertised. Sidney knew it was he who changed. He completely excused himself from their married life. He spent his weeks working, boxing, and begrudgingly showing up to various social events, as instructed. On the weekends he made a b line for the familiar beaches from his childhood, and to his nieces and nephews who were teaching him what life was really all about. 

And now. Now he had found it. It had taken him some time to even realize he was searching. His lobby-sparked fantasies were really an exploration of possibilities. Of what could be if he took the time and got in the driver’s seat of his personal and emotional life. Initially he had outsourced his personal happiness to someone who told him what it was. Now he knew the only way to have the life he wanted was to make his own decisions and more importantly, act on them. Regardless of the likelihood of success. Over the past several months as he searched for what to do his thoughts had frequently turned to an unlikely source of inspiration for this leap of faith:

_The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives_

_valiantly; who errs, who comes up short, again and again, because there is no effort without error and short coming_

_but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasm, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause;_

_who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst,_

_if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat.” Teddy Roosevelt_

He might fail, but it would not be for lack of trying. Now he realized what he was looking for was not the fantasy life he dreamed of for years. Not even the fantasy woman who starred in those dreams. That woman looked like Charlotte, but of course, Charlotte was something else altogether. She was unapologetically herself. He wanted to be, too. And while he thought he knew who he was, only now that he saw himself reflected back through Charlotte’s eyes did he see who he could be. He wanted to be the person she saw. The person she connected to. The person who buried himself so deep under a steady stream of goals, achievement, hard work, financial success, and all the other gold rings he was told to grab for that it took someone who really knew how to pierce armor and dig deep to help him uncover his true self.

And now that she provided a glimpse of who he could be and what his life could be like, he was not going to waste another minute. He needed to know what was possible and the strength to make it happen. She made him strong. And he needed her there to confirm he had the courage. He couldn’t wait. 

So, while he’d never seen anything as peaceful and lovely as this woman bundled in white towels, sleeping-off her hangover poolside, he needed her. Now. He hesitantly reached out and touched her arm, to touch his future and dive in head-first. 

“I must be,” he responded to her coquettish query. The answer to a question he never thought he would love hearing. Charlotte sat up awake but unrefreshed from her too-short nap and grabbed his left hand with hers, lining up her ring finger with his. The towels covering her fell away, revealing the white string bikini top she had on. Momentarily distracted, he returned his gaze to her and saw a shift in her eyes he could not quite identify. “That’s what it says here, doesn’t it,” she continued, running her fingers over their matching ink bands. He didn’t think his smile could get any wider. Locking her gaze, “It sure does, my beautiful, runaway bride.”

Now it was Charlotte’s turn to grin like a fool. His gaze had the balancing effect of making her feel safe, aroused and beautiful simultaneously. And, as soon as she heard the confident, rich timbre of his voice, memories from the night before came tumbling back into her mind. 

“I did runaway!” she said incredulously, “what was I thinking?” 

“I’d love to know? I went to sleep earlier this morning dreaming about waking up next to the most beautiful woman in the world, and when I woke-up she wasn’t there,” Sidney asked, trying not to sound too insecure.

Charlotte’s stomach flipped as his words collated with her fresh memories. She remembered falling sleep next to him. They had spent hours exploring each other’s bodies. He was tender and hungry. She recalled the sweet words he whispered to her as he lavished her body with attention and reverence. And the sound he made when the walls of her warmth closed tight around him, “Charlotte. Ohhh….Chaaarlotte. aaahhhooohh.” And he never let go of her. The sun was peeking through the bottom of the curtains, his strong arms were around her and she curled her body up around him, head on his shoulder, her hand on his heart, and a leg resting up and around his thigh. “Never let me go,” she had almost pleaded, “and I’ll never let you go” she promised. He had squeezed her closer to him, kissed the top of her head, and promised, “I’ll never leave your side.” And here he was, right beside her when she woke up.

‘Sorry,’ seemed a lame response. And how could she tell him, “I forgot we got married.” As the details of the night became clearer, she knew her only option was brutal honesty. “I think…..I just….it’s not ….” She squeezed his hand harder. She could see him working hard to keep the hurt at bay as she tried to find the words. She did what she always does. Put as much distance as possible between her and what she did not understand. How could she tell him, ‘I am scared. I have no experience returning someone’s love and affection. I have never had the opportunity to. I don’t understand why you want me. I know how to be needed, lusted after even but I have no idea how to be loved. I will screw up again. I will hurt you. I just don’t know when or why. And I can’t bear for you to realize I don’t deserve you.’ 

But “I don’t know,” was all she offered in a sound just above a whisper. Insufficient; she could see it on his face. “That’s what I do,” she said honestly before she could even think, it just tumbled out of her mouth. 

He just looked at her, took both her hands in his. He kissed each one and said, “don’t do that again.” She looked into his eyes and like an oath responded, “I won’t.”

Sidney held her hand and helped her up from the lounge chair. He grabbed her bag and lead her away from the pool, back into her hotel. Charlotte followed without question. She released his hand and instead wound her arm around his waist leaning into his body. He wrapped her shoulders in his arm and squeezed her tight. They said nothing more.

They weren’t nervous. Now that they could see and feel each other, they both knew there was no other place in the world they should be. So many real-life questions were left unanswered: “Where would they live? How were they going to tell her family? He was divorced, she recalled, does he have any kids? Could their lives fit together as well as they did?” but the answers were irrelevant. The only real thing that mattered was that they were together. They slowly moved toward each other once inside her hotel room. She pulled his sweater off immediately, and he found the strings on the back of her bathing suit and pulled them both until the top piece dropped to the floor. She took off her bikini bottoms and bent down to take his shoes and socks off. He pushed his jeans down over his knees and she pulled them and his boxer-briefs the rest of the way past his feet and left them in a pile on the floor. He grabbed her hand lifting her up off the floor and walked her over to the bed. He pulled the sheets and blankets and led her into the crisp bedding, following right behind her. He pulled her toward him to rest her back against his chest. His left hand on top of hers, their fingers entwined. Wedding rings resting on top of each other. As they drifted off to sleep, Charlotte asked, “how did you find me?” “I searched. I looked everywhere I could think of. I promised you, I’d never leave your side” he reminded her. A tear formed in the corner of Charlotte’s eye as they drifted off to sleep. Together.


	11. No.  This isn't Awkward. Not at all.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day after proves....confusing and amusing. Our leading men are just lost. And rather enjoying it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LOVE LOVE LOVE your comments. We have one more night in Vegas and then everyone will be heading home to New York. How will they all get there, and who is "all"? We'll just have to wait and see. 
> 
> THANK YOU FOR AL THE LOVE AND KUDOS.

Chapter 11

No. This isn’t awkward. Not at all.

Clara hopped up out of bed and headed for Crowe’s shower. A morning spent sweating between the sheets was definitely a substitute for spin class. And just like after spin class she felt filthy and needed a shower, pronto. Crowe’s stomach dropped as she got up. When he heard the shower turn on, his stomach settled. He felt that; but spent little time contemplating what that was. Instead he got up, joining Clara in the shower. “Hello, talented man, care to join?” “You’ve yet to sample my talents in the shower,” he whispers moving into the stream of warm water falling down from the huge shower head that descended from the ceiling. He grabs her hips and turns her around to face the wall moving his hands up her stomach to cup her pert breasts. He pulled himself against her to rest himself between the hills of what could only be described as her luscious ass. Clara let out a sexy sigh placing her hands on top of his on her breasts and pushed her ass against his hard cock. “Please feel free to demonstrate them at any time,” she teased. He was eager, she would give him that. But it wasn’t just his skills that had her dragging her feet about leaving. His tenderness and generosity in bed touched something inside her that made her want more. He tried to be mysterious and unavailable. But once the mask came off, she liked what she saw and the feeling she had when he looked directly to her eyes. 

Of course, she needed to know more. Who was he? What did he do for a living? What was his first name? She couldn’t even google him without that. Typically, this is data she collects upfront. But she was having so much fun last night. She laughed. Real belly laughs, not the kind she had perfected to protect egos and turn men on. Crowe took the reins and before she knew it, she was not completely in control of the situation. She needed to get on top of this. As soon as this shower session was over…..

***

Babbers luck was changing. After coming away from the poker table up about 10k, he looked over at the Bacarrat table just as Esther was changing shifts with the next croupier, a tall, exceedingly thin man with a bald head, and a toothy grin. She barely acknowledged him and headed straight to the pit boss to do her count. 

Yes, Babbers was having a lucky streak, the timing was perfect. He followed her as she went to exit the Casino through the employee entrance, inconspicuously placed on the wall furthest from the grand entrance.

“Hello Esther. Could I buy you a drink?” he asked. Catching her before she disappeared through the opening door. “George George Babington. Didn’t I tell you I am not interested?” Esther retorted, a smile belying the serious and disinterested tone she was trying to convey. 

“I never take a first offer. Extensive negotiation is required for the real prizes. If it’s offered up too easily, its likely not worth my time.“ Pleased with his business analogy, and relieved by his ability to think on his feet, Babbers took a breath. He might not be structuring a deal to sell one of his companies, but somehow, he felt the stakes were even higher in this transaction.

“Cute. You are pretty used to getting what you want, aren’t you,” she asked almost rhetorically, her smile cooling into a smirk? He smiled, sensing her thaw, “I am not sure I will ever get used to it, but yes. I don’t give up until I have what I came for.”

“Well, I suggest you do. Cause this is not a negotiation in which you will come out on top. Good night Mr. Babington.” And just like that she slipped through the exit, and the door closed with a quiet but definitive thud. 

Waking up alone the next morning, Babbers was disappointed, but not dissuaded. He was just going to have to come up with a new strategy before he settled in at Esther’s table tonight. One of the benefits of his High-Roller status was his direct access to the Casino Manager. Before falling asleep, he sent a text to Sam Sidaway asking about the red-head croupier’s next shift. 9 pm – 4 am, Sam had texted back around 6 am. That should be enough time, Babbers thought. 

Checking in with the boys, he had texted Sidney and Crowe several times this morning, to no avail. Neither one of them were making contact. He dressed and headed to the gym, figuring both of them were nursing hangover’s and perhaps, bidding their evening visitors adieu. 

The treadmill would give Babbers time to consider his approach. Air pods in, he turned-up the Bruce Springsteen/U2 playlist he loved, and began running as Bruce screeched:

_The screen door slams, Mary's dress waves_

_Like a vision she dances across the porch as the radio plays_

_Roy Orbison singing for the lonely_

_Hey, that's me, and I want you only_

_Don't turn me home again_

_I just can't face myself alone again_

_Don't run back inside_ – Thunder Road

***

Dressed and heading down the elevator, together, Crowe decided walking Clara to the waiting Uber was only right. It was now after noon and a 12 + hour get-together warranted a bit of chivalry, he told himself. 

As Clara headed directly to the Lincoln Navigator he called for her, she let her hand slip out of his grip until only the tips of their fingers were hooked together. She stoped in front of the door and waited for Crowe to open it for her. Dutifully, Crowe opens the door and leans up against its the thin edge. “Thank you. That was……one for the books,” Crowe offered, feeling oddly inarticulate. “Oh, we’re not done yet. Hop in and let’s get going.” Crowe, a little surprised how well he responds to direct commands, hops in next to her in the back of the SUV without hesitation. 

Crowe scrolled through his texts searching primarily for news from her office. Crowe never liked to mix business with pleasure but, he had been trying to get this meeting for months now. When he found out she would be in Vegas for an over-night shoot the same weekend as his boy’s trip, he made it a priority to make himself available to her when she arrived. Tentatively scheduled to have drinks at 4 pm, Crowe figured he could spend a few more ours with his bossy new friend, and head directly to his meeting at the Wynn. He was not sure what he would do for the next 4 hours but was pretty sure Clara had that covered. No worrisome texts from his assistant, he opened the last message from Babbers:

9.48 am – Babbers: How’s the hangover? Any company this morning? I am going to head to the gym and maybe try and get a massage – want to meet for lunch? Sid’s MIA. Unless you two spent the evening together?

Crowe smirked at his friend’s terrible sense of humor and caught him up on the evening’s events.

12.13 pm – Crowe: The company this morning was just the cure for my hangover. That and my oatmeal. I am heading over to the Wynn, and I have that meeting later, so let’s get a rezey for dinner – 9 pm? Sushi? I need sushi….

12.14 pm – Babbers: Sushi! Any more of that and you will have mercury poisoning my friend. Actually, I’d like to see that, Nobu it is, but let’s say 8.30 pm. I’ll get Sam on that. What’s at the Wynn? Have you heard from Parker? Last I saw or heard from him he was headed to the kiddie table to play blackjack with you. 

12.15 pm – Crowe: He apparently struck out…..hard. He texted me this morning looking for the phone number of my….companion’s roommate. They were looking cozy when Clara and I left them, but it sounds like he got no love. I haven’t heard from him since.

12.15 pm – Babbers: Parker struck out? That’s a first – make sure we document it. Eliza really stole his mojo, huh? We need to get him some loving before we leave tomorrow. I will leave that in your competent hands. I am on a mission tonight….

Babbers did not elaborate, and, quite frankly, Crowe had already lost interest in their conversation. He was too busy wondering what Clara was typing away about on her phone. 

“You have your cover story down for your boyfriend,” he asked? Keeping his eyes on his own phone, he saw in his peripheral vision that she was smiling. Turning to him, Clara responded “Are you trying to find out if I am single, Crowe?”

Crowe snorted. Or tried to, the breath got caught somewhere on its way to his nose, and he just sounded like he was struggling to breath. Not the “pulleeze, who me care?” response he was going for. He shook his head, mostly out of admiration. She did get to the quick of it, didn’t she? 

They made their way to the elevators and Clara explained she was going to change and then he could buy her lunch. Clara pulled out her keycard and swiped it across the circular pad next to the door handle. The light turned green, the lock made the familiar click, and she entered the room heading to the sofa near the window, straight for her half-unpacked luggage to grab a day dress and maybe put a bathing suit on underneath. It was Crowe who called her attention to the queen-sized bed closest to the door? 

There they slept. Charlotte and Sidney, bodies entwined so tightly in the dim light coming from behind the dark curtains, it was difficult to see where she ended and he began. Clara silently screamed with her mouth wide open. Crowe was amused and thought about waking Sidney just to watch his discomfort. Clara quickly grabbed a black linen dress from Club Monaco, and swiftly moved between Crowe and the bed, holding her finger up to her lips like a very naughty librarian, Crowe thought and ‘shushed’ him. She pushed him into the bathroom and whispered, “leave them be. Charlotte is a Vegas Virgin, let her figure this one out her own way. I am sure he’ll be fine. Pretty sure, anyway. Now zip me up in the back of this dress and let’s get going. I am thinking Sushi. You eat sushi, right Crowe?”


	12. Come As You Are.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's talking. Tears. Confusion. And Courage. And lots of sushi.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have another chapter on deck for editing, so fear not. There will be some actual plot development shortly. 
> 
> THANK YOU for all of your comments/kudos, etc. I never imagined this many people would read it, let along like reading it. THANK YOU!

Ch. 12

Come As You Are.

Sidney awoke at the sound of the hotel room door shutting, and immediately looked over to see if Charlotte was still there. He wasn’t going to let that happen again. His heartbeat settled when he saw her curled up in his arms and he couldn’t help but smile. Pulling her even closer, he thought this is what the morning should have felt like. He could stay here all day in this exact spot, holding her while she slept. 

He realizes now how her sexy bravado from the night before faltered when she woke up next to a man she barely knows. That’s why she ran. He, of course, had “known” her for years so it did not occur to him how discomfiting it could be for her to wake up the morning after you have completely changed your life next to a man you only just met the night before. He was too focused on the fact that it felt like that had always fit together, always known each other. 

_When watching her move to the music on the dance floor last night, he didn’t think about how their bodies would move together in bed, with dancing always used as a proxy for sex. He was too taken with how he felt. How she made him feel. Her openness. Not caring or even appearing to notice his stilted and uncomfortable movements. He looked ridiculous out there, and yet when he looked at her, you’d think she was looking at aman making serious moves equal to hers in rhythm and beauty. He was struck profoundly by how she just accepted him. As is. Her eyes, and her hands made him forget his embarrassment and feared humiliation and let him just experience the sensation of the music, the movement, and her increasingly amorous touch. The feeling of her hands at the nape of his neck while her back was pressed firmly against his body was arousing for sure, but it also struck him that this is exactly where he was supposed to be. In that moment. Not because of what it would lead to. Not because of the way it looked to others, but because in that moment, that second, she was there as herself. Being herself. Seeing him for exactly who he was and far from bolting, was coming closer. Wanting to be near him. Wanting more of him. He felt light-headed. He was struck by the fact that no other person – let alone any other woman – had ever made him feel so accepted as he is. He felt complete and enough. Not even his parents made him feel this type of unconditional acceptance. He was always pushing harder to win their attention, love, and approval. Swim team Captain. State finals champion. Good grades, good school, first in his class, good job, fastest promotion, most money. These accomplishments kept the love and attention coming; and he had believed, would one day make him feel like he was enough. He just needed to accomplish enough. But at this moment he felt….no he knew, he needn’t acquire or achieve or win anything for this woman – she was with him in this moment. He was enough and she wanted him._

_When he took her hands and led her off the dance floor, she followed without question. They headed toward the club’s exit when Sidney stopped, turned to her. She was surrounded by smokey colored lights and lasers, the roots of her hair damp from the humid air of the overcrowded dancefloor. He had been found on that dance floor. In that moment. And he never wanted to be lost again. He looked into her eyes searching for a crack, a hidden motive. He found none. What he saw looking back at him was pure acceptance. And all of her wisdom, beauty and love._

_He pulled her close and bent his head to kiss her, lifting her chin she reached up and grabbed his neck. They stared intently at each other before slowing coming together for a gentle, loving, delicate, agonizing kiss. He wanted nothing but her. Not just for tonight. He never wanted to be without her. And somehow, he knew he could convey all of that with a kiss. He pushed his lips deeper and more forcefully against hers. She responded in kind and when he felt her tongue lustfully lick the inside of his lower lip, his teeth, and search until it found his tongue. He tightened his arms around her small frame. He inhaled her, caressing her tongue with his, all the while letting his bottom lip play teasingly with hers. She ground her entire little body into his. Her fingers raked the short curls at the back of his head as she sucked on his lips demandingly. He felt off balance from the connection and wondered if he could keep them both upright if she pressed any more forcefully up against him. He could have kissed her searching and voluptuous lips all night – he didn’t care where they were, who was watching, or what time it was. And so, they stayed like that. Kissing and closely holding each other right in front of the entry to the club. but when they parted lips, inhaling deeply to catch their breath, Sidney knew they did not have any time to waste._

When he thought of her waking up earlier that morning confused, he wished he was up to comfort her. To let her know he was willing to wait and let her get used to this new reality. But he was not willing to let her go. He didn’t want to scare her. He wanted to give her the sense of freedom and peace she gave him. Could he show her what he could barely articulate? That he will always be there for her. That he loved her exactly how she was, he had no grand designs for how their life should be and even whether she needed to “fit” into his life. That he wanted them to figure that all out together. 

He had a lot buzzing around up there. He needed to take it slow. She’s a runner. He’d certainly didn’t want her to go again. He moved in to nuzzle his nose right behind her ear and breathe her in. 

“That tickles,” she giggled sleepily. And turned her head to look at him. “good morning,” she said, half teasing, half reaffirming the reality of this situation 

“Good morning, Mrs. Parker.” 

Looking up at his remarkable face, she could feel her body reacting to his gaze. Just like it did last night. In this moment she wishes these memories could have all come back to her in the morning. Before she left. He looked at her intently. He was so focused on her she felt a bit uncomfortable. He couldn’t possibly want to stay here with her all day and laze around nursing her hangover. Could he? Huh? Mrs. Parker? She picked that up a beat late. Sidney Parker. Mrs. Sidney Parker. What the hell?

“Or, are you a modern woman? Would like to keep your name?” he asked with a big smile on his face that was contagious. He was fine with that but would definitely prefer to share the same last name with her. A primal instinct rose in him to make sure everyone knew she was his. That they were bound to each other. They were one.

“I don’t know what I am,“ she blurted out. Honesty just seemed to spring forth around him. “Can I get back to you on that one?”

“Let’s discuss over breakfast, shall we?” he offered and pulled her body to rest on top of his. The warmth of her soft skin on his was exactly what he didn’t know he was missing. Charlotte almost moaned at the sensation of her breasts resting comfortably on his strong chest. The feeling of his hands: one on her back and the other gently massaging her hip made her eyes close and her nipples harden. She dropped her head down and kissed his chest right between his collarbones. She saw his Adam’s-apple bob as he swallowed, hard, and wished she wasn’t so hungry. Again.

She cupped his face in both her hands and looked deeply into his eyes….. “Your answer to this next question will prove vital to the success of our marriage, Mr. Parker,” she said gravely, “how many french fries is too many?” Sidney returned her deep gaze and without missing a beat responded, “trick question. There is no such thing as too many french fries” squeezing her close and kissing her cheek as she giggled in agreement. 

***

Crowe was known to eat enough sushi for four men, yet, even he was impressed by how much yellowtail Clara could put away. He watched her as she expertly dipped her fish in soy sauce and place it on her tongue without a drop of rice or sauce dripping. After she ate the sushi, she would dip a single chopstick into the wasabi and take a small amount and suck it off the stick. A chaser. 

“Would you like me to order some more” Crowe asked with a grin, anticipating a sheepish refusal from Clara? “Yes, can we do two orders of the sushi, and one order of the yellowtail sashimi in ponzu sauce” Clara responded. Not an ounce of shame or embarrassment. 

“You have a healthy appetite,” Crowe admired, as he caught the eye of their server.

“I didn’t eat from 14-20. I have a lot of time to make up for” Clara said plainly. Crowe was intrigued, but also felt self-conscious asking any further questions. He looked down at his food realizing the extreme wealth of his childhood on the UES of Manhattan made it hard for him to ask more about what sounded like a tough and perhaps poor childhood. 

As though reading his mind, Clara added, “there was no other way to fit into the sample sizes.” Lost in something akin to shame over his exceedingly abundant upbringing he almost didn’t hear her. “Sample size,” he repeated to buy some time to respond. “I was a model. I thought I told you that. Most men remember that bit of my story. But after years of not eating, I refuse to hold off now. I’d rather take another spin class than forego another plate of yellowtail,” Clara added with a smirk. Could he have really forgotten she modelled her teens away?

“Right. Paris. The 6th, near the Sorbonne, ” he grinned, recalling her tales of underage clubbing with Middle Eastern businessmen in the Latin Quarter. “Now I remember. How many of you girls could you fit into a studio apartment? Well don’t let me hold you back. I appreciate anyone who can eat as much Sushi as I can,” he tried to reassure her, hoping he hadn’t embarrassed her. “I can likely eat more than you can, Crowe, don’t underestimate me.”

Whoa. His whole body filled with fizzy bubbles, like sparkling water. He smiled and could not think of anything to say. 

***

The food arrived quickly. More quickly than either Charlotte or Sidney expected. Still lying on top of him with her legs and arms curled around his sides, Sidney had been running his hands through her hair down her back and those calloused palms felt just as good as she imagined they would. He felt amazing and Charlotte had no wish to be anywhere else or do anything else. She could have laid like that all afternoon. 

But with the knock at the door came her hang-over hunger roaring back. She rolled off of Sidney and went to grab her robe, Sidney using the moment to sneak into the bathroom. Nothing like being in bed, naked, when the room service attendant rolls in. He thought he’d spare himself and the attendant the discomfort. 

He could hear Charlotte thank the person. Profusely. Wishing them a great day as she shut the door. He wished she'd locked the bolt lock, keep her roommate from interrupting. He came out of the bathroom just as Charlotte was settling back into bed with a huge plate of french-fries and a bottle of Pellegrino water on her lap. He took the scene in along with a deep breath. If this was his next chapter, there was no way he was going to try to race to the end. He was going to enjoy every minute of this new life. “If you’re good, I’ll share,” she teased, looking up at him, naked and flawless. 

As he tucked-in under the covers next to her, resting his plate of pancakes on his legs, he volleyed, “same here.” The feeling of ease and comfort he felt in this moment was one he tried to memorize so he could never forget it while simultaneously hoping to repeat it many times over with Charlotte…..for the rest of their lives? Did he really just say that? What they pledged to each other last night and was the only possible next step for them in that moment, now seemed to him to be another part of his fantasy life with HER. But, Charlotte. She was not HER. This alluring, enigmatic, artistic, free spirit was her own person. Was she going along for the ride just for the experience? “Why not, this ought to be interesting,” he was imagining her saying to herself when he asked her to marry him. Right then and there. Maybe this was all one big performance art piece on her part, “iBanker-sapien fetish: the Vegas wedding.” Jesus, what a fool he had made of himself. She’s in the middle of a Banksy-like prank, and he is planning his future with her. While he had thought now would be a great time to discuss what life would be like when they went back to New York, Morgan Sachs, and reality, seeing her wrapped in a robe, with the belt loosening just enough to allow him a stunning view of her round breasts and her taught stomach, he was all of a sudden struck with a deep shame that he was not in on the joke. Or worse, that he was the joke. 

_When their passionate kiss in the dance club ended, Charlotte lead him outside with both hands locked with his, marching them directly to the rainfall reflecting pool, surrounded by green leafy flora taller than she was, outside a promised “grand” ballroom. Turning back to Sidney, she looked up at him and was stopped short when she saw what looked like terror wash across his eyes. What had she done? Did she move too fast? Was her kiss too filthy? Maybe he only likes proper women, who wait to be kissed? Whose hips remained immobile in public? Was she a Vegas fling to be joked about on the flight home and then forgotten? Whoa…Why was she spiraling? What was she hoping for from tonight if not some “good old-fashioned fun,” like Clara promised? She had never felt so insecure with a man before, and typically relished in being an instigator. Milo never turned her away when she made her intentions known. Granted, Susan was always the aggressor, but overtime she allowed Charlotte to explore her more dominant and demanding sexual persona. Charlotte knew what she liked sexually and asked for it. Isn’t that what modern women were supposed to do? And even if he didn’t like it, why did she care?_

_She encircled his waist and gave him a squeeze, keeping him close while her mind whipped up a storm of shame and insecurity that she was trying to tame. She wondered if her bohemian art school indoctrination was really so far afield from what was expected of women in the main? Was he disgusted by her assertiveness? Or, simply titillated for a night of Vegas debauchery, and ready to shower and bolt as soon as the sun rose? And why did she care? This was Vegas. The likely cradle of the one-night-stand. In Charlotte’s experience, people came and left in life and you learned what you needed to from them and then moved on, the natural tides of human interaction. She prided herself on rolling with the waves, riding them when they came along and enjoying the moments in between._

_So, what was she worried about? She came to Vegas for fun. This man was…beautiful and his body felt strong and capable. Truly. What seems to be the problem, Charlotte, she thought to herself? Of course, her problem was that she had never had this problem before. She really connected with him. And not just sexually. Yes, she knew that desire was there, but more terrifying were the feelings she had for him that she had never had or never let herself have before for anyone._

_Sidney was also was lost inside his head, a very dangerous neighborhood for him to be in alone at this time of night, from his experience. How could he be so sure. In the most unlikely of places, with a woman he himself had to admit he did not know. And yet, he felt closer to her and more understood that he had in his marriage. No, ever. He had never felt this at ease and accepted. Never. How did this happen? Maybe he was just lonely, he wondered. It had been so long since he had been with anyone, perhaps he felt it had to mean more than just a Vegas one-night stand. Too anti-climactic to just have sex with a beautiful woman to start this next chapter? What was he worried about? The narrative would not be linear? And what was she thinking. He was struggled out of his frenetic internal dialogue when she grabbed his waist and pulled him closer, squeezing him as though she was checking he was real or apparition._

_No. This was not a Vegas hook up. This was the lifeline he had been thrown by the universe. He knew it. And he was ready to grab a hold and see where it took him. In that moment he was struck by a faith that he would be ok, if he just took step right through the fear._

_“Marry me,” he said. More of an instruction than a command. As though the words were written in a script he was following, he told her what was going to happen next, but knew she could call "cut" any minute if she was not happy with his delivery._

_“What? What did you say?” She could not have heard that right. She was lost in thought and the hall around them was buzzing with activity. His dark, passionate eyes bore into hers. She felt them from the tips of her toes to the top of her head, and all the sensitive parts in between. “I want to marry you and spend the rest of my life proving to you and the universe that I am deserving of the good fortune that brought you into my life tonight,” he added, building up momentum and courage. He searched her eyes for a clue to what she was thinking, and he smiled. He was struck with how right this felt. He was not scared. He was not worried about being rejected. This is what was supposed to happen in this minute. He was convinced of it._

_Charlotte smiled. Incredulously? Sheepishly? Confusedly? Happily? Yes. All of those things. She had heard him and heard him correctly. Despite her questions, she knew he was serious. He wanted to be with her and was not playing any fucking French-fuck-boy bullshit games. He wasn’t trying to be inscrutable and use his power to seduce her. He was taking a risk. Declaring himself. Committing himself to her._

_“Yes.” That’s all she said. The only word she could eek out before the tears began to well up in her eyes. When she looked up at him, there was a single tear just cresting his eye and rolling down his left cheek. She reached up on her tip toes and licked it up and left a sweet kiss behind. He wrapped her in his arms and pulled her tight against him. Neither one of them moving or saying anything further._

. 

Where was that courage from last night, Sidney wondered? Seems both of them were trying to make sense of their impetuous, but what he would swear was absolutely necessary, wedding last night. 

“How about that reverend at the tattoo parlor,” Sidney asked? Hoping that starting with a joke might ease her and his anxiety. “The Mike Tyson face tattoo really added just the right touch to our wedding, don’t you think, honey,” he said as lightheartedly as he could?

“Who knew it was all included in the “Together Forever” package. Wedding license, ceremony, music, witnesses, two 5-x7 photos and his and her matching tattoos” Charlotte almost couldn’t finish before she bust out laughing. The two of them laughing hesitantly, gauging the other’s mood and reaction. Sidney held up his hand and admired the permanent mark, unable to keep from smiling. Even here and now he was convinced this was no Vegas gag. He was committed to making this…..real. “We’ve got to get those prints framed. Where did we put them,” he asked, still looking at his fingers? 

She watched him as he admired the dark black letters of her name on his skin. He was tan. His skin a deep olive that required the darkest ink to make her name readable, not just visible. He was smiling, but was he regretting it? The tattoo? Or, maybe the whole thing. It did seem a bit absurd in the light of day. But when she looked at him, she knew she was in this. Whatever this was. She was his. Whether he liked it or not. 

She held her finger up next to his, turning to him, “you can….” trailing off, she was not going to give him an easy out. No jokes to dispel the seriousness of her feelings. Their feeling, possibly? Because last night in Vegas, the morally decrepit den of iniquity, they found the one true thing they both needed. She just knew it. She knew she could never explain it to anyone else. But she knew. 

“You can what” he asked timidly? He was not letting her go so fast. He had no idea what it was going to look like or how it was going to be, but he knew it was going to be her and him. Forever.

There. Face to face. Naked. In bed. Eating carbs. What did she really want to say? She tried to read his face but stopped. No waiting and trying to gauge what she thought he would want her to say – god that sounds exhausting just thinking about it and yet it is how she lived. She had to say it. Come what may. She moved her hand to lay on his cheek, looked directly into his eyes. “No one will understand this. But I do. And I hope you do, too. Cause, if that is the case, I would very much like to be your Mrs. Parker. The Mrs. Charlotte Parker.” 

Her voice was quaking there at the end of her declaration. He could not stand to see how terrified and vulnerable she was. He placed one hand over hers on his cheek, and the other on her cheek, “I love you, Mrs. Charlotte Parker. I will never let you get away from me.”

She pushed her plate of fries on the floor, sent his plate onto Clara’s bed like a frisbee, and straddled her husband’s body. They stared. And smiled. And held each other’s hands so tightly, both their knuckles were white. They both leaned in and kissed where they were bound to each other. Both of them shedding more than a few tears. 


	13. Introductions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let's everyone get better acquainted...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Check out these comments!!! I know I don't respond to all of them, but I do READ all of them. Thank you. SO glad you are enjoying Absurdist Sidlotte.

Ch 13.

After sushi, Crowe told Clara he was meeting a business associate at 4 at Parasol Up. Clara told Crowe, accurately, that he still had an hour and a half before then. He surrendered to her will, once again. He was stuck with her till this meeting but after that, he’d be able to head back to his hotel and prepare for another night with the boys. Hopefully Parker had made his escape already. Maybe they’d hit the Bellagio tonight, he thought. 

“So, what’s this meeting you have today,” Clara asked, wrapping both her hands around Crowe’s sinewy bicep? He looked down at her, refusing to acknowledge how good her hands felt on his arm, or the warmth from her body as she cozied closer to him as they walked. “Just work. I have been trying to set this up for months and turns out we are both in Vegas this weekend. If this goes according to plan, the financing will come together and we start……the project can start to take shape,” he concluded quickly. He purposefully does not share his line of work with women – usually there is not enough time for it to come up – because like most personal information, it complicates matters. 

“What is it that you do, exactly?”

“Stumped you, huh,” Clara chided. “Well, I like a bit of mystery in my men, Crowe, so be your coy self.” And with that, Clara’s eyes were drawn to the shimmering window of the Balmain shop just down the escalator from where they were walking and talking. Crowe grinned. He could not deny that she had his number. Damn it. Gently extracting herself from Crowe’s arm, she headed down the moving stairs and over to the store, called by the siren song of high-fashion. Crowe dutifully followed, noticing he still had a full hour till his meeting.

***

Babington got that massage. He needed it. He was tense all over. The run did nothing but amp up the adrenaline coursing through him. Esther. Her disdain was such a turn-on. As much as he enjoyed their verbal volley, he did have to wonder, who hurt her? That slick Teflon coating doesn’t just apply itself. She was well practiced in the art of deflection and low expectations. And he could not help but imagine why. He needed to make real progress tonight if he was going to spend any real time with her before he left Vegas tomorrow. Of course, he could always stay. He was the one with the plane. Fuck Crowe and Parker – they could fly commercial. He was not going to leave this god-forsaken city without at least having a drink with her.

But how to execute? Clearly immune to his worldly gifts, dropping the G-6 bomb would have no effect on her. And the whole pitying, “I am just a shoulder to lean on,” would shut down the whole affair before it started. He was going to have to work for this one. His pulse quickened. Without any real ideas brewing, he swallowed his pride and phoned a friend. Crowe was no use; he hadn’t given a woman his full name or his phone number since Obama’s first inauguration. “Yes we can!” Crowe believed briefly, before the object of his affections ran off to D.C. with her speechwriter boyfriend who was allegedly part of the Obama administration. Sure, Crowe thought. I’d have to keep that one in my pocket for future use, he told Babbers. 

And Parker was a fucking mess. He knew it would be a while before Sidney was back in fighting-form, so to speak. Babbers had hoped to talk to Parker about his fighting this weekend. During the divorce it had been a necessary evil, Babbers supposed, but now he needed to find another hobby. Maybe he could buy Sidney some knitting needles. His mom always told him, “Busy hands and idle minds have knitted many a sweater.” Parker needed something to stop over-thinking. Jump back into life – that’s what Babbers thought he needed. And, if he ever ginned up the courage to give Parker advice that’s what he’d tell him. Parker did not take well to suggestion, Babbers thought as he dialed his number.…..

***

Charlotte laid in Sidney’s arms still straddling her legs, one on either side of him. She was swaying slowly side-to-side. The comfort of his warm body and strong arms matched the quiet seas inside her mind. The storm had passed, and what was left in its wake was……..an enormous sense of wellbeing. Symmetry. Stasis. Her head lay on his shoulder as he rocked her back and forth. 

“Will you come stay with me at my hotel? I’d be happy to stay here, but I don’t think your friend would appreciate an additional roommate.” Sidney just wanted to be alone with her. Even just like this. 

“Where else would I be on my wedding night,” Charlotte asked cheekily, pulling away from his embrace just far enough to look in his eyes? “Well, as I recall, you ran out the morning after your wedding, so you can’t blame a husband for asking?” He pulled her back close, his body missing her warmth. “Ah, see, Mr. Parker, technically, our wedding night is tonight. We married around 3 am so, if my memory – which, admittedly, is addled by drink – serves me correctly, we got married today. Therefore, we sort of jumped the gun there hopping into bed,” those last few words coupled with a deep and slow roll of her hips against his warm, hard and increasingly large lap. Sydney let out a gasping groan when he felt her stroke his cock right through the center of her wet and warm folds. He returned the movement and moved a hand up her back through the tumble of curls at the back of her head. “Well, Mrs. Parker, if that is the case, I ask you to forgive my haste. But I will not apologize for taking the first opportunity to show my wife how much I love her. And I plan on taking every opportunity I am given to continue to demonstrate my awe and devotion,” he added, while he rubbed her back. Charlotte’s breath became shallow, and her eyes stung as she continued the rhythm of her body. Her hips saying what she couldn’t. She tightened her grip around his neck and opened her lips to suck on his neck. She wasn’t exactly sure why, but his words made her anxious. And only his touch could calm her erratic breath. 

He moved his hands to cradle her face. He placed a single, chaste kiss on her lips and then looked in her eyes intently, “every opportunity.” Her smile spread to a wide goofy grin. She couldn’t help it. She again laid her head on his shoulder and squeezed his whole body with her arms and legs.

“…I know I will look hot in it, I didn’t need to try it on…” this partial snip of a conversation already in progress could be heard as the door swung open with a clang. Crow squinted into the still dark room, “you think they’re….” “Yes,” Sidney and Charlotte yelled in unison. “We are here,” they growled, neither happy about having company. Charlotte detached herself from Sidney’s lap, but Sidney would not let her go far, pulling her in close, next to him on the bed as he covered her with the sheets and blankets as best as time afforded. She continued to rest her head on his shoulder and welcomed the arm he wrapped around her shoulders. 

“Good morning,” Sidney managed both annoyed and a little embarrassed. Crowe had not walked in on him in bed with a girl since they roomed together at Princeton. 

“Well, looky here, Clara. They’re up.” Crowe was now, well, crowing at the scene before him. 

“They did look so sweet all curled up together sleeping,” said Clara as she headed for the curtains to let the afternoon light into the room. “Enough sexy time, kids. We have plans,” she continued.

“You watched us sleeping,” Charlotte asked?

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Clara smirked, “I should have known I would be interrupting something when I opened the door to MY OWN HOTEL ROOM, at 12.30 in the afternoon,” she teased sweetly. Her and Crowe’s faces had exactly the same expression – amusement. 

Sidney wiped his face with his free hand and looked up, “You must be Clara. My apologies. I never meant to make you feel like an intruder in your own room,” Sidney offered sincerely. “When there is a private moment, we will get dressed and leave you two to it.” His embarrassment transforming swiftly to mortification. Sidney scanned the floor for his clothes nonchalantly, not wanting to draw attention to the ball of jeans and underwear about 2 feet from where Crowe was standing. 

“No need, friend,” Crowe quickly interjected, “I am running to a meeting. I was dropping off Clara.” Clara tossed her Balmain shopping bag on her bed and surveyed the uneaten items still on the room service cart – picking a piece of mango off a wilting fruit plate, she added, “for now. We are all having dinner together tonight. I hope you are up for it, Charlotte.” Charlotte was not up for it. But, was not about to start discussing her preferred evening activity in this crowd. 

Sidney looked over at Crowe, who was surveying the floor intently. Was Crowe being bashful? Taking a girl to dinner after spending the night and day, apparently, together…shopping with her? He was downright domesticated on the Crowe scale.

Sidney’s phone rang. Still in the pocket of his jeans, balled up near Crowe’s toes, the ringing phone shocked Crowe out of his stupor and he moved to dig into Sidney’s pants for the ringing device. “It’s Babbers!” he shows the screen to the room generally, as he hit answer, and placed the phone on speaker. “BABBERS,” Crowe bellowed into the air above the phone. “I found Parker. He’s in bed. With a gurrrllll!” “Jesus, Crowe, give me my phone,” Sidney insisted. But Crowe was on a roll trying to redirect the attention away from he and Clara and what he knew Parker had rightly pegged as a ‘long-term’ liason in Crowe’s world. “He’s right here. Wait, let me face-time you. You need the visual….” “Crowe!!!” Sidney raised his voice. Charlotte just looked at Sidney with her huge eyes bulging out even larger if possible at the sophomoric display before her. The goofy grin replaced with a wry smile. “Please do not judge me by this person,” Sidney said apologetically. “We rarely take him out; he is unsocialized and barely house-trained.”

“See Babbers, don’t they look cute,” Crowe turning the iphone camera on the bashful but otherwise serene looking couple in bed. “Say hi, Parker. And…I am sorry…what was your name? I know you told me last night. I’m terrible with names, Miss….” Crowe asked with feigned anticipation?

Sidney waived in the phone’s general direction, “hey, Babbers, glad you are here to bear witness to homicide. I am sure you will testify that I killed Crowe in self-defense,” Sidney said archly and turned to look at Charlotte. They just smiled at each other and he gave her a slight nod in answer the question her eyes were asking. 

Charlotte looked at Crowe, “It’s Mrs., actually. Mrs. Charlotte Parker.”


	14. Awake, Sober, and Alone.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little more about last night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU. Thank you. thank you.The comments and kudos are pretty overwhelming. I am so glad you are having fun.

“Hold the phone!! HOLD THE PHONE! How are you married before me?” Clara wanted to know. Really loudly. “Bitch, show me the ring,” Clara demanded, storming to Charlotte’s side of the bed, stomping right over the French fries scattered on the floor. 

Before Charlotte could pull her hand completely out from under the blankets, Sidney bowed his head, grabbed her hand in his and thrust them both in front of Clara with a pride that both shocked and tickled Charlotte. She laced her fingers though his to allow the rings to be viewed next to each other and shivered from the feel of his warm and steady hand.

Clara’s jaw dropped. 

Crowe was practically vibrating; pacing back and forth at the foot of the bed, he could barely contain himself. “Parker has lost his fucking mind, Babbers. Are you seeing this?” Crowe zoomed in with the phone, giving Babbers a close up of the matching tattoos. 

Clara looked at Charlotte with her mouth agape and placed both her hands around Charlotte and Sidney’s joined hands and squeezed them silently. Finding the words, “oh, Charlotte,” she said sweet and treacly, “you crazy bitch. This is the most insane thing I have ever seen. You didn’t even hold out for the engagement ring! Parker is a pretty big deal at Morgan Sachs – he could have sprung for a showstopper.” Turning to Sidney, “you cheap bastard. Did you not think my girl was worth a few carats?” Clara was cackling as she moved over to slip her arms around Crowe’s waist. With her chin resting on his shoulder, “this is not how it’s going to go down with me, friend. Trust,” she stated plainly and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. All the color drained from Crowe’s face. He quickly said his goodbyes, tossed the phone to Sidney, and left for his meeting. Walking to the elevator he could feel his heart pounding. She has to go. She has clearly gotten too comfortable, he thought as the elevator carried him down to the lobby.

“Mazel Tov,” Babbers boomed through the phone. “It is lovely to see you, Mrs. Parker. I cannot WAIT to be able to meet you in person. Don’t let Crowe worry you, he’s allergic to adulthood. Parker! Nice work. Now, I am going to need some of this smooth operating myself tonight. We can discuss later. Reservations at 8.30 – I will increase it to…five. Jesus, that I am the only one showing up to dinner tonight single is a fucking joke. A very sick fucking joke. “ Hopefully, he will be doing something about that tonight, Babbers thought. “Thank you, Babbers. Will call you later,” He ended the call and leaned over to place a kiss on Charlotte’s bare shoulder. Sidney really wanted to get dressed.

The past few minutes were revealing enough, that he had to do it completely naked was a testament to his psychic pain threshold. And the close proximity of Charlotte. He needed to be alone with her. As if reading his mind, Charlotte asked Clara if she could slip out for a minute so they could get dressed. Clara was scrolling through her phone and turned on a dime and headed to the bathroom, “just scream if you need me. I’m going to take a bath. And I am going to take this fruit plate,” Clara declared as she nicked the full plate off the room service cart on her way there.

Charlotte hadn’t really unpacked yesterday but for her toiletries and the dress. They landed in Vegas in the late evening and Clara wanted to have dinner at the SW Steakhouse, the proposed site of the welcome dinner for the department retreat she was planning. Moving quickly, Charlotte pulled on a navy poplin A-line dress with an asymmetrical neckline that hit mid-calf and fished around for her ballet flats. She stole a glance at Sidney as he pulled his sweater over his head. She was really going to have to do a much closer inspection of the body. It almost looked fake. She dumped her cosmetics bag and balled up dress into her luggage and started to zip up the carryon sized roller when Sidney came over and finished it for her. He picked up the tote she had at the pool and rolled her suitcase towards the door. 

“We are going, Clara,” Charlotte said loudly. Almost simultaneously, the door to the bathroom flung open. Clara was wrapped up in a fluffy hotel robe. She gave Charlotte a dramatic hug and warbled, “My little girl is all grown up…..married…. to an investment banker, no less……oh you make your mother proud….” She ended with a loud laugh and headed back toward the bathtub that was quickly filling with water. “Don’t think you are going to get out of telling me exactly how…this” Clara turned and gestured large circles around Charlotte and Sidney “happened. I expect all of the details.” Charlotte and Sidney grinned and Charlotte called back, “and we expect the same level of detail about your time with Crowe……….Mom.” 

***

Finally back at his hotel, Sidney wheeled Charlotte’s luggage behind him with one hand as he headed down the hall to his room. Their room. His other arm wrapped securely around Charlotte’s tiny shoulders, her body fitting into his side as though he was crafted to her specifications. Her shoulder fitting just under the crook below his arm, her waist tapering in right at his hip, her head resting right in between his shoulder and collarbone snuggly. 

The ride back to his hotel was awkward. He couldn’t deny it. Both of them refusing to let go of the other’s hand, they looked out the windows on their side as the car crawled through traffic on the strip. After the excitement of the morning, and the pandemonium of their short visit with Crowe and Clara, Sidney’s mind had turned to practical considerations. What’s next? He needed to get cracking on that house hunt for real, making a mental note to text the realtor with his amended needs. Where were they going to live until then? He could not bring her home to the Lowell. They’d had enough of the fantasy of hotel living. He wanted to have a space that was just theirs. She lived in Brooklyn. Maybe they could live at her loft while they house hunted. Temporarily, of course. He was willing to change a lot of things in his life to suit her but living in Brooklyn was a bridge too far. He wondered if this discussion would be their first real fight since he knew how committed she was to the lesser borough. He smiled thinking about what it would be like to fight with her. 

The real reason for all of his planning, however, was how nervous he was. Now that all of the excitement and secrecy, and the search for her after she disappeared was over, they could just be together. This felt like the real test to Sidney.

For her part, Charlotte was lost in thoughts about her current piece hanging unfinished on the wall of her studio. She tried to remember what she was feeling when she began the canvas – a need she had to identify and categorize the pieces that compose a life worth living. What was required, what you couldn’t control; the things we fill our life with that serve no greater purpose than helping us cope with the life we created? What made life possible? What made it worthwhile? She was struck by how much of her early thinking on the piece revolved around considerations of what others thought about her current stage of life. That was not the purpose of the piece as she had conceived it, but it began to dominate all of her time on the painting for the past several weeks. Perhaps that’s why she had stopped working on it. She knew there was an answer to a question she needed answered at the end of this work, she just needed to figure out what question she had posed to herself.

Primarily, Charlotte was feeling giddy by the security and comfort of his presence, his scent, the kindness in his eyes and the feel of his warm hand in hers. And while she knew their timeline was completely inexplicable, her feelings were indisputable. She had no doubt about how much she loved this perfect broken man and as far as she is concerned, she always had. From the moment her eyes made contact with his, she felt her pulse quicken and her lungs expand. But also, her heart swell, and a feeling of comfort envelope her. She wanted to spend the night with him. Holding him, listening to him, loving him. And, that is why they needed to be alone. Awake, sober, and alone. She was worried how he would react if she told him she didn’t want to have dinner with his friends. Well, not tonight, anyway. 

As soon as they got off the elevator, Charlotte remembered the hallway and the room number, 1684. Her throat tightened. The images and the feelings from last night washed through her in an instant. Her body responded with goosebumps and her nipples hardened painfully as she replayed the events. 

_He had held her hand, caressing her knuckles with his calloused and misshapen thumb, all the way from the taxi to the elevator. When the door opened on his floor, his grip tightened, and his pace quickened. Every part of her body tingled, and her hand felt hot under his grip. Her attraction and love for this man had been overpowering since they danced earlier in the evening. After their quick stop at the tattoo parlor come chapel and the loving words and whispered promises they shared in the car ride back, her deepening desire and unshakable sense of security with him was building up a passion in her she knew she was only able to contain for so long. As though reading her mind, he pulled out his keycard, walked to the next door on the left and opened it, all in one motion._

_She pounced. Pushing him up against the wall right next to the door, she ran her hands up his torso, over his shoulders to the curls at the nape of his neck. Smashing her mouth on to his, she sucked hard on his pillowy lips and moaned loud against his mouth. His back was against the wall, so she used all of her weight against him, as she rubbed her breasts against his chest, and her hips up and down his thigh. He didn’t miss a beat, he grabbed the back of her thighs just below the hem of her dress, and lifted her up, wrapping her legs around him and thrusting his painfully hard erection against her hot and damp center. She rubbed her pussy up and down the bulge in his pants and concluded he must have the biggest cock she had ever felt. Somehow, the idea of the pleasure and the pain she imagined he could render made her even wetter. She wanted to be taken. Hard. She wanted to feel him slide between her folds and pound her deep and fast. To stake his claim on her body. In this moment, she would give him anything and do anything he asked. She just didn’t want him to make her beg for it. She wanted him to dominate her body but let her keep control. If they could make that implicit agreement, she knew she would be unable to control her reaction to his touch._

_She tightened her legs around his waist and continued to roll her hips against his bulge. Her body was on fire and she could not get close enough to his. Her mouth enveloped his and she sucked his lips hard. She could feel herself start to drip and let out a primal grunt as she rubbed her clit up and down faster and faster … she was ready, her hips moved on their own, she could not control them, and the harder she rubbed, the stiffer he became. She could feel his hot breath on her cheek as he moaned her name….”Charlotte,”….She rubbed faster and swore the sound of his voice was the sexiest thing she had ever heard. The air was thick between them, and she gasped to breath. The room felt as though it was spinning as she came, loudly. “Oooohhhh. Fuck. Sidney Siiiiid….fuck uckuhhhhh.. god…uuuuhhhh….uhhhhh. Oh baby, fuuuuck…” she buried her face into his neck and continued to scream, “fuck…fuck…..Oh my god.” Her orgasm was so intense she started to drool. She had lost all control. The way he held her body as it spasmed, and how he called out her name telling her how beautiful she looked, filled her with an unfamiliar sensation. She had tears building behind her eyes. As the waves of pleasure subsided, she looked up at him and saw the love in his eyes. She could not hold back the tears. She felt weak, her legs dropped from around his waist and she held onto his neck like a life preserver._

_Sidney carried her to the bed. As the wisp of a dress slid down her leg, Sidney caught it with one hand and tossed it on the chair. He held her. He sat down on the edge of the bed and just held her. He rocked her back and forth gently. He didn’t shoosh away her tears. He gave her the space to feel whatever she was feeling, holding her tight, whispered, “I’ve got you. I am here. I am not letting go.” She wept harder and folded entirely into his embrace._

“You OK?,” Sidney asked as he opened the door to his room, not releasing his arm from her shoulders. He knew he was nervous but could not decipher the look in Charlotte’s eyes. For her part, she couldn’t respond. The ball of emotions stuck in her throat was swelling, and she could barely breath, let alone speak.

Sidney turned to her at the doorway and rubbed his hands up and down her arms. “Thinking about running?” he tried to joke, but the reminder of her early morning escape hit him harder than he anticipated. He was so hurt when she realized she just bolted. Charlotte looked up at him. Her eyes glistening with tears of contrition. Sidney regretted his ham-handed attempt at humor immediately. “I am sorry,” he offered lamely. “I don’t know why I said that. You are here with me now, and that is all I want,” Sidney continued.

“That is all I want,” Charlotte managed to eek out, placing her hands on his cheeks, running her thumbs back and forth across the stubble under his jaw, the ball in her throat shrinking the longer she looked up in his eyes. They conveyed a love and warmth that she had never known, but now knew she could not live without. “That’s all I want,” she repeated, “I just want to be with you.”

He set her bags down in the walk-in closet and took a deep breath as he felt Charlotte’s hands wind around his waist and up his torso. Resting her head on his back she could hear his heartbeat and feel his chest rise and fall with his breath. She just wanted this. She and him. Alone. Touching. Connected. If the Clara/Crowe interlude taught her anything, it was that she needed more time with Sidney, without an audience of his closest friends. But she could not risk hurting him again. She saw the look in his eyes when he joked about her leaving this morning. She didn’t want to see that look in his eyes again. So, she said nothing. Holding on to him tight, she tried to memorize the cuts and sharp peaks of his chest with her hands.

“There is no fucking way we are going to that dinner tonight, by the way.” Charlotte stood in amazement. Sidney turned and saw the big grin on her face and knew she felt the same way. “Soon,” she added. “I just need you and me tonight. After all, it is our wedding night,” she said coyly, slowly pulling away from his hold and walking him to the bed. 


	15. Be careful of me.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh, Crowe.

Ch 15 be careful of me

Babbers was officially freaking out. It was inching toward 6 pm and he was without a solid plan. He could not just show up and “take his chances.” There was little room for error on this one, and he needed a plan to ensure against failure. He needed to talk to Parker. But he was almost certain he and his wife (WIFE?) were not going to make it to dinner. And who could blame them. 

But he is determined. In the name of his future happiness, he would risk interrupting the Parkers in person. Maybe Charlotte would have some mystically inspired advice. After all, she met and married Parker in less time that it took them to fly in from New York. She might be able to explain to me what the magic words are?

***

Crowe was sweating. Already anxious for his meeting, now he had Blondie talking about marriage. Fucking Parker. As the elevator descended, he thought of all the ways Parker screwed him over. He not only looked like the man of your dreams, he’s an insane romantic? The grand gesture really sets the bar high. Blondie was growing on him. That mean he might spend a second night, not a lifetime with her. There is no way he was going to have dinner with her. She needed the full-stop treatment. Pronto. He sent off a quick text, explaining dinner plans fell apart and turned his ringer off, slipping the phone back in his pocket. 

Crowe was distracted and he needed to focus. He was used to dealing with actresses. His last two movies were all-female-ensemble casts and he had a reputation for his deft touch on set that had elicited some very famous actresses’ best performances. But this film was different. He was going to need a single strong, powerful, actress. A lead who could carry the film, as she was in almost every scene. The script was a risk. More indie-and _avant garde_ than his typical work, the financing was not rolling in as usual. He and his agent were assured that if he could bring in a top actress for the lead role, financiers would be plentiful. He had initially thought of Greta Gerwig, or that British confection, Rose Williams. He had also gotten calls from Alison Brie’s people, and “someone” had floated to the trades that Shailene Woodley was being considered. She was not. None of these would tempt the money men. Regardless of his preference, Crowe knew by now you had to be flexible to live another day in this business. 

Scarlett Johansen. That was the lever he needed to pull in order to get the rest of the cogs in motion. The byzantine rules of Hollywood were opaque, and could not be studied, only learned by trial and error. A decade ago, he would have banged his head against a wall trying to get his first (or second, third) choice lead, by trying to convince the studio or the distributors the magic that would happen on set. No longer Sisyphus, he was more of a realist now. Scarlett would lure the money. And, he believed, she could actually act. The role was far from her Marvel character, but he thought the juxtaposition would be appealing. Plus, she’s sexy. Like, I am not sure I will get through this meeting without embarrassing myself sexy. Crowe knew she didn’t need this role. What he hoped was that perhaps he could make her want it. 

Actresses are notoriously late. Born from the deep insecurity the industry forces on them at an early age, they all wait to ensure they are the last to arrive. So, when he got to the front desk at Parasol Down and saw a petit – no – tiny woman with short blond hair and pleasingly fulsome breasts sitting alone just a few tables from the entrance, he knew he was already in the hole. He walked over and began to apologize as he held out his hand. Scarlett looked up and smiled, “Dude, I’m early. Chill.” 

He was thrown. He was looking forward to the deep gravely voice. And, he did his due diligence. His agent gave him the full download and Crowe was confident he had a pretty good sense of the woman he was meeting. This was decidedly not the image his recon has drawn. Scarlett was known to be icy and a bit vain. Which in Hollywood meant off the charts vanity. She allegedly loved a good laugh at others expense, was resentful of most other actresses, and ferociously smart. He was prepared to be on his toes and stress the fact she was his only choice – that without her, this film should not be made. Well, without her this film likely could not get made. Close enough for Crowe.

“Sit down. I ordered you Cosmo,” she continued. Crowe sat and after a few beats, tuned in to her frequency. “How did you know? I am a sucker for a Comso. Right after an appletini.” He deadpans. “I appreciate you taking the meeting. What’s filming in town right now? Your agent tells me you are here for work,” he began.

“Look, you want to do the dance on this one?” Scarlett continued, ignoring Crowe’s small talk. “I never want to do the dance,” he responded, “can we just talk?”

“Please. Look, I want this role. And I want to sign on as EP. I can seduce you for it, or we can discuss it frankly and make a deal.” Crowe must not have been hearing her right. She kept him off center, and he couldn’t hide the smile growing. He liked it. The thought of being seduced by Scarlett Johanson had its appeal, however. He weighed this possibility as their drinks arrived. Two whiskies neat. The seduction has already begun, thought Crowe. She even knew his favorite drink. 

He liked her assertiveness. As much as he’d like to seal the deal, he thought he’d enjoy himself a little longer. After all, they are in Vegas. “How’d you get the script? We’ve been keeping a pretty tight hold on it,” he asked. He didn’t care. That was the line you use to build interest. The scarcity model. If you can’t get it, it must be worth getting. 

“I know the screenwriter. He told me he wrote the role for some little English piece, but the producers were merely amused at his casting suggestion.”

“Rose Williams. She’s great. She needs to break out of the costume genre. This could be her vehicle to launch her in the US,” Crowe offered. So easy to rile up actresses. A little competition makes them horny. 

“She sounds great. Listen, no one is funding a $100m movie starring Rose Williams. I want to make this movie and I am willing to take the risk as EP. I’ll take scale and a cut on back-end.” 

Crowe could not compute his good fortune. This was way easier than he thought it would be. His stunned silence was misinterpreted by Scarlet, and as she sat back with her drink in her hand, she slipped her foot out of her stacked slide and glided it purposefully between his legs. Crowe felt her toes press against his cock, and could not help but think of…..Clara? What? Holy Shit. He was ‘thisclose’ to fucking Scarlett Johansen, and the first thing he thinks of is Clara? His head was twirling as he tried to make sense of what his brain was doing, and what his body was not doing. This trick of Scarlett’s did not make him hard. At all. What? 

“What the fuck do you mean dinner’s cancelled?” He heard her before he saw her. Right away his pulse quickened. This is the part he hated. They never went quietly. He turned to see Clara – looking fetching in long black slacks and black knit tank top – walking straight for his table. She didn’t even look in Scarlett’s direction. “Nice try, scaredy cat. So freaked out by your feelings for me you have to run? Grow up. It doesn’t work that way with me. And you know it. You are just too scared to accept it,” she stated directly and mercifully, at a lower octave than her initial salutation. He smiled. She looked great, and he could not help but admire her resourcefulness. He almost forgot he told her where his meeting was. But he needed to wrench the upper hand back.

“Scarlett, this is my friend, Clara Brereton; Clara, this is Scarlett,” he hoped meeting a celebrity would bring her to yield. While he didn’t mind her yelling at him, he could do without it happening in the middle of casting a film. 

“Hi. Nice to meet you, I’m Clara,” she said offering her hand to Crowe’s drinks companion. “I apologize for interrupting your meeting. Some messages need to be delivered in person.” 

“I agree,” Scarlett offered, concurring with Clara. “Don’t let me stop you. Want me to give you a minute?”

That would be great, Scarlett,” Clara persisted. “You must have meant that the group dinner was cancelled, but that we were having dinner someplace else, which is fine. I have no problem with that. So, pick me up at 8 pm?” Clara instructed more than asked. Her voice did not do that thing women’s voices do when they bring the last few syllables of a sentence up real high like they are asking a question. She knew what she was saying. She wasn’t asking. Crowe was getting stiff just while she stood there calmly and efficiently browbeating him for his _faux pas_.

“Sounds good. I will be there at 8pm,” Crowe replied, feeling as thought he had no other choice. 

“Excellent. Apologies. Now, carry on,” she commanded as she turned on her heals and headed for the exit. Stopping, she spun around again and said to Scarlet, “I love you as Black Widow, btw. Total Power Babe vibes.” And with that, she was gone.

Crowe was really on the ropes this afternoon. Ever since Parker announced he was married, Crowe seemed to be careening between blows and unexpected land minds. What in the actual fuck, he thought?

“I like her,” Scarlett offered, “she is not interested in any of your big Hollywood director bullshit. You should marry that woman!”

Not her, too, Crowe thought. Am I sweating? Why is my hand shaking? Why is my cock hard? Crowe’s bargaining power was quickly dwindling, as Scarlett was getting a more detailed view of the man behind the Crowe magic. He felt nauseated. 

“Anyway. Back to business.” Please, he thought. “You want in. That’s great. I have to say you are our first choice, so we are excited about your interes..”

“Do I need to get Clara back here? We are doing this. Stop pretending it isn’t the right thing for you and for me. Deal?”

Completely flummoxed, Crowe held out a hand for her to shake, and after a few seconds, answered her, “Why does everyone keep telling me to marry her?” 

“Dude. She clearly has your number. You could never marry someone you could play; you’d be bored in 3 months and then be the bad guy. She is gonna keep you on your toes. And when you’re honest with yourself, you know that’s exactly what you need.” With that, Scarlett stood up and took the last swig of her drink. “Lead. EP. Scale. 20 points on the gross, deal?”

Crowe couldn’t stand up at the moment, so he looked up at her met her hand, and with a slow shake said, “Deal.”

Scarlett left and with the exit of these two blond bosses, Crowe was unmoored and needed a minute to collect his thoughts.

“What the fuck just happened?” Crowe muttered under his breath. 

_***_


	16. That Exact Feeling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Babbers gets some advice from the Parkers. And Charlotte remembers more from her first night with Sidney.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK. I did not expect this chapter to get this steamy or daring. Please read outside the presence of you family or other small children.

  
Ch 16.  
The Exact Feeling

“Whoever is at that door is dead to me,” Sidney said against the top of Charlotte’s head as the loud knock continued. The hotel room was lit with the late afternoon sun shining through the shear curtains housekeeping has left closed when they came into clean the room earlier. The golden ochre bathing the room in an ethereal light casting a golden halo around their entwined bodies. Charlotte was tucked into him, her head laying right over the beating heart in his chest. She could have stayed like that forever. The rhythm of the beat steady, firm, and comforting. His arms were around her torso, holding her against him while his cheek rest atop her head. 

Neither of them responding to the continued knocking. They were together. Connected. And complete. They needed nothing else, so whatever was outside in the hallway could go away. “Sidney. I swear, five minutes. That’s all I need, five minutes,” Babbers yelled from the other side of the hotel room door. He knew Parker would be pissed, so better to go in strong and ask for forgiveness later. 

“Huuummmmmph,” Sidney exhaled. He did not loosen his hold, just moved his hands up and down on her back. “You should get that,” Charlotte whispered. She didn’t want to disturb the cocoon of soft golden light and warmth wrapped around them. But, she was practical. “The sooner we let him in, the sooner he can leave,” she continued. “Fine. But only because my wise wife told me to.” 

What the hell does Babbers want, Sidney wondered as he went to the door. “Parker, just a few minutes of your time. It’s important and I could also use Mrs. Parkers advice, if you don’t mind.” Babbers charges in without any ceremony. He walks right into the center of the room, and sees Charlotte sitting on the sofa in the alcove and heads directly to her giving her a short bow. “Hello. I am so pleased to meet you. I cannot tell you how long I have waited for a woman to come along and make Parker listen to his heart, without question. He usually plans, maps-out, researches, analyzes, and frets over his lunch order. I know nothing about you but that you made him make his move on instinct. Thank you.” Babbers is talking fast and seems nervous which amuses Sidney. Far from being embarrassed from Babbers description, he sees the smile on Charlotte’s face and hopes she understands just how much she has shifted something in me. If Sidney could pick a brother, instead of his own good for nothing freeloading relations, it would be Babbers. Thoughtful, generous, whip-smart and wise – the last two not always found in a single individual. He and Babbers had seen each other through many of life’s challenges and knew that Babbers and Charlotte would get on. Crowe, on the other hand was an acquired taste. He was more selfless than he let on, but still had a “youthful exuberance” than most other folks as successful and as old, frankly, as he is had lost. Perhaps that’s why Crowe has done so well in an industry based in fantasy. 

Sidney is now watching Babbers and Charlotte talk animatedly, and he wants to know what they are talking about. 

Turning his attention to the present moment, he hears Charlotte say it just can’t be explained. She just….knows. “I know, too Babbers,” Sidney butts in. “It will become clear to others over time. But, honestly, that’s their deal. I don’t feel the need to make anyone understand. I am happy.” Sidney says definitively as he sits next to Charlotte, grabbing her hand as she grabs on to his. Babbers can’t help but smile at the two of them. 

“So what can I help you with, Babbers?” Sidney wanting to get straight to business. “I don’t imagine you are looking for wedding gift advice.” 

“Not right now, friend. I need lady help. I have met the woman of my dreams. I need some Parker magic to seal the deal,” Babbers spit out as fast as he could. 

“You were not blessed with my powers, Babbers, when are you going to accept that,” Sidney joked. Charlotte giggled an Babbers rolled his eyes. “Right. So, I have tonight to make my case. We leave tomorrow afternoon, and I have to get through to her.” 

Sidney can see he is serious and despite wishing to get this over with quickly, he does want to help him if he can. “What are your plans for tonight? Where are you taking her? And why, lord, were you planning a dinner for the three stooges instead of spending the evening with her.”

“She’s working this evening. At the Wynn. She’s a croupier at the Baccarat table. She is…… extraordinary,” Babbers says almost to himself, his attention drawn to the image of her he has conjured in his head. 

“You played Baccarat? Dude, that game is all chance. No skill whatsoever. You must have lost a packet,” Sidney was amused. 

“Not the point, Parker. Keep up with me.”

“I don’t know how to approach her. I asked her to have a drink with me when her shift was over last night….“

What happened,” Sidney interrupts. 

“She said no. She was particularly disdainful. I took great heart from it.,” Babbers continued.   
“But now I need to get her to say yes. Tonight,” Babbers emphasized. “How’d Sidney do it, Charlotte,” Babbers asked, turning back to Charlotte, who was listening intently. 

Charlotte was amused by the boys talk. Here were to serious, extraordinarily successful men, talking like two girls at a high school sleepover. She was tempted to ask if they wanted to braid each others hair or try to levitate Sidney, but instead, decided to offer him some of her insights, very recently acquired.   
“You need to touch her,” Charlotte said.

Both Babbers and Sidney looked at her waiting for her to elaborate.

“Figuratively? Like touch her heart? That’s what I am here for. How do I do that in a few hours when she is working and I will have an audience of drunk Baccarat players?” 

“No. Her skin. I mean, don’t grab her. She’ll think you’re a pervert. But let her feel how you feel. Take her hand. Dance with her. Hold her. Words are great. But they only go so far if you are trying to make a soul connection. I mean, if you want to just sleep with her tonight, then tell her she’s a hot piece and that you can do ungodly things with your tongue. She’ll appreciate the honesty…..But, if you want to know her after you leave here tomorrow, words alone won’t cut it.” 

There was silence. An uncomfortable silence. Charlotte had unconsciously, curled her body around Sidney while she was talking, leaning her head on his shoulder and bending her leg over one of his. Her hand coming to rest on her heart. He pulled her close and wrapped her in his arms. 

Babbers just stared at the two of them. He could not help but see the change in his friend, and not just infatuation with this lovely woman, he had to admit. No, his friend seemed more relaxed. More present. Sidney usually had the presence of a man with 30 different things running through his head simultaneously. But he was complete here with her. With him. Focused on the Babbers’ dilemma. He seemed…content. 

“So Parker has the magic touch, is that what you are telling me,” Babbers asked? 

Sidney laughed. ”Listen to her Babbers. We didn’t even say the words, ‘I love you,’ to each other until after we were married. We just knew. It was straight to my heart, it did not pass through my brain. The way she held my hand,” “The way he held me on the dance floor,” Charlotte interjected. “How he brushed my hair out of my face while we were talking.” 

“She put her hand on my cheek. She just held it there.”

“He moved his head and kissed my palm, putting my hand right back where it was.”

“She ran her fingers over my hands. Delicately tracing all the scars and misshapen fingers.” 

“When he looked at me. He held my gaze. He wasn’t undressing me with his eyes, he was telling me he was there. With me. And he didn’t want to be anywhere else. He held me not for arousal or titillation, but to be there with me in that moment. That the space we occupied together was all there was in the world. That when he looked at me, he was home.”

“And Charlotte’s hands touch let me know she saw in me those parts I do not show anyone. The fragile, embarrassed, terrified part of me. And her hands told me she would hold those delicate parts. Safely. Carefully. Gratefully. When she held me, her whole body told me that was who she held on to and that she wasn’t going to be letting go of him. Forever”   


All three of them looked at the floor and took a minute to compose themselves. Babbers swore he saw a tear fall down Parker’s cheek as he was talking. And Charlotte just stroked his chest and held him. She didn’t say anything. She told him it was ok by not letting go.

“Well, congratulations to the both of you. I will leave you. I am going to go kill myself because now I know I have never been completely and truly loved. Thanks for that.” Babbers said as he got up and walked toward the door. 

Charlotte called out to him, “just let her know, you know this is it for you. You are done looking around. She is your final destination.”

Babbers came back and reached for her hand, looking to Parker as thought for permission. Sidney nodded and was curious to see what Babbers would do. He held his hand outstretched to her, and she pulled hers away from Sidney’s chest. Babbers grabbed it, squeezed it tight and said, “thank you. I think I know what I need to do.” Releasing her he looked at Sidney and gave a formal bow. “Thank you, SIr. I did not mean to intrude upon your time with your new wife. I don’t expect to see you at dinner, but I will text you an SOS if I am striking out.”

Sidney stood up, and carried Charlotte with him, holding her on his hip, with her legs wrapped around his middle. Babbers shook his head. “None of this on the plane tomorrow, you two, its ‘G’ rated.” Babbers said with a smile. Sidney shook his head. “Terrible joke, Babbers. One of your worst.” “Thank you. Always looking to best myself. And now I will go. Charlotte – make sure he texts me your social for the manifest. They need a few hours’ notice to change the passenger list.”

The door slammed shut behind him, and Sidney threw Charlotte onto the bed. She giggled when she landed and reached up for him, “Come here,” she insisted, "I want to know what my forever feels like."

Charlotte lay beneath Sidney, trying to think of what to say. How do you explain that this was her home? Right here. In his arms. Even with the hyper speed of their relationship, she was now fused to him. Forever…….

Sidney slid across the bed coming to rest upon his wife, while he leaned the majority of his weight on his left elbow. He had watched her give Babbers her advice on how to get a woman to fall in love with him. But, honestly, Sidney had no idea exactly what he had done to capture her heart last night. He had had no plan. He didn’t prepare the things that came out of his mouth, and he let his body tell him what to do with arms, hands, lips when he was with her. Sidney struggled to find a time in his life when he was so automatic; acted on instinct. Undivided between thought and action. 

The boxing-ring. Of course. A feeling of calm and understanding washed across his body. The only time he was not stuck in his head weighing, contemplating, maneuvering, and calculating outcomes was in the ring. His body took over, and his mind surrendered to its movement, releasing his grip on the controls. That unity of body and mind. It was the same feeling with her. She made him feel and act this way. He had no intention of falling in love on his boys’ weekend in Vegas. His post-divorce restructuring plan for his life was barely in stage-one when he smelled her gardenia scent next to him. But, in an instant, everything inside him aligned and moved in unison toward his new north star. 

“Forever feels like this. You and me, holding on to each other. You are my forever.” Charlotte held his loving gaze while he spoke. Why did she believe him? Why did she trust him? She did. Not an ounce of doubt in her mind that what he said came from his heart with no ulterior motive. She exhaled a breath she did not realize she was holding in. Looking at his deep, dark eyes she remembered how she looked into those same eyes last night. She felt her body warm from the inside out and her smile broaden as the memories from last night came flooding back to her. 

  
_He held her tight on the edge of that bed for a long time. He swayed back and forth with her in his lap, holding her like you would a sleeping baby. The only sound was her erratic breath and quiet weeping. She was so sexy, and her aggressive and demanding attack as they walked through the door to his room stirred his longing. All he could think of was responding to her desperate body, gripping him with the force of the jaws of life. But this was no car wreck. This beautiful chaos was home. For both of them. He understood that in his marrow. Both of them needed the other. And all he wanted right now was to hold her and comfort her and let her know this too, this moment with her was what he wanted. Her sadness. Her ecstasy, her need. Her fear and her hurt. He would love her and hold her through all of it. That was all he wanted from her. From himself. Complete honesty and openness. Nothing off limits. His greatest weaknesses or his most embarrassing desires. He wanted her to know all of it, and all of him. And he wanted to feel the love, acceptance and unbridled want she gave him._

_Charlotte picked her head up off his shoulder an grabbed his chin, moving his head to look directly in his eyes. “Thank you,” she said with the shyness of a child. Sidney stroked her hair and wiped a tear from her cheek. “That you trust me so implicitly and instinctually makes my heart burst. Makes me feel strong. And loved,” Sidney explained lovingly. “No one has ever made me feel like this. No one has so freely given their true self to me. It makes me brave enough to show you my truest self.” Charlotte turned in his lap and rested her forehead on his. “I see you. The true you. I love the true you,” she told him, never breaking her deep gaze into his eyes._

_She had nothing to hide, and that kind of trust and security stirred something in her. She could feel the throbbing need between her legs. She moved to face her whole body toward his, placing one leg on either side of his body. The loving look he gave her was quickly replaced with desire and lust. She wanted him, too. Whatever tenderness they shared gave way to craving. Both wanting to share and take everything from each other. She closed her eyes, held both hands delicately on his jaw and kissed his lips with hers. Slow. Intentional. Tentative, she brushed his lips with hers and licked his bottom lip with the very tip of her tongue. Her hands moved down his neck to his shoulders and across the muscles of his upper back. She gently bumped the tip of his nose with hers, causing him to look up at her. She dragged her tongue across his top lip and pulled back to look him in his eyes. “Take me,” was all she said._

_Sidney wound his arms around her back holding her tightly against his torso. His clothes creating too much of a barrier between them. He whimpered, desperate to feel his hot skin pressed hard against her breasts. They were full and round, and her nipples looked painfully hard. He just looked on in awe. He had never been this close to physical perfection before nor had his heart loved this deeply; he was momentarily paralyzed, his body and mind unable to compute all the stimuli simultaneously. Charlotte pulled at the buttons on his shirt, managing to undo the majority of them before pulling the rest of the obstructive clothe out from his waistband and ripping the last two buttons to tear it off. She slowly pushed the shirt open, over and down his arms and wrapped her legs tightly around him. The bulge in his pants pressed right in her center and she ground down hard on his lap to get closer to it. When she pressed her breasts against his hot, bare chest they both hissed with pleasure. The feeling of his skin against hers was a shock, like her hand on an open flame. The pleasure was exquisite and the pain of still not being close enough to him agonizing._

_Her beauty made it hard to swallow, and the way in which she moved her body against him was hypnotic. She was not letting go of his soft full lips until she absolutely had to. God. The thought of his mouth on her wet and throbbing middle was coupled with an involuntary rough moan – pure want. The anticipation quickening her movements._

_He picked her up and took a step and turned placing her gently at the foot of the bed. She immediately spread her legs and moved both hands from the back of his head to his shoulders and gently, pushed his body down until he was on his knees. She looked down at his face and could see his desire. His heavy lids revealing enough of his dark smoldering eyes for her to see his wild ferocious need. She leaned back with one hand planted firmly on the bed behind her, and with the other she ran her fingers back through his thick curls and guided him to her throbbing center. He didn’t hesitate._

_His placed his hands at the top of the inside of both her thighs, his thumbs reaching to stroke her wet slit one after the other in a staccato rhythm that already had Charlotte’s hips moving involuntarily. He rubbed the tip of his nose down from the waistband of her panties through her fragrant wet middle, with his tongue making the return journey back up. Far from covering her, the gossamer fabric of her panties exposed her swollen pink folds and showcased the tip of her throbbing and erect nub. She tasted like salted honey and vanilla; the smell of her sex was intoxicating. As he began to slip off her soaking wet panties, he could see her juices running down the inside of her thigh, curving a route down between her legs and back through the valley to her bottom. As he removed the final barrier to her perfect body, he let out a choked moan, unable to contain his arousal nor his pride from how wet she was. He was enraptured._

_‘Lick my pussy, Sidney, please……..” She promised herself she would not beg. But she was lost. She already had him following her instruction, and thus far she had been able to lead him exactly where she wanted him. But her body wanted his tongue now. It could not wait for him to thoroughly inspect her every inch or take the scenic route. No need to shower her with tender terms of admiration. Her pussy ached for him. For those lips. For that tongue. She was starting to feel sick from the delay in her gratification and was about to beg again even louder, when she felt his head bow, and his tongue find her hot and soaking wet slit. “UUUUhhh,” she grunted as he gave praise with his tongue._

_His cock had been hard since the moment he saw that dress but being on the receiving end of her passion made him feel as though he might burst into flames. Her commands triggered in him deeply buried feelings of carnal desire. He felt rabid. Desperate for more of her. Her taste, her smell, those guttural sounds she made. He wanted to satisfy what felt to him like her insatiable need. She was beyond tempting, she was addicting. He knew he would never not be weak and defenseless before this woman. That she could have such a beautiful face, that singularly erotic body and a provocatively filthy mouth almost made him come._

_He heard her sensual, needy cry, and almost choked. Sidney lowered further on to his knees and set to give her what she was begging for. Secretly, Sidney loved when a woman used filthy words during sex. Referring to her own pussy was a particular erogenous note of his. Hearing her beg him was the single hottest utterance he had ever encountered. But he was not fooled. She was completely in charge of him. When he heard her beg, he complied without thought or delay. How such a delicate and ethereal creature could command the hard charging persona he presented to the world seemed implausible. But Charlotte saw right past that caricature. Beneath that confident, demanding, successful investment banker was a man who was cracked wide open by her magic, and would do anything to stay within its warm glow._

_His lips opened her folds wide and his tongue entered slow and hungry for her taste. She could hear the wet slurping noise of his tongue in her juices. Normally she would feel self-conscious about the sounds her pleasure made, but with him it turned her on. His rhythmic caresses of her pulsing walls brough her right up to the edge of release, when he would slow down, painfully prolonging the ecstasy and driving her crazy. Her hips rocking faster and faster into his face, and her cries becoming more incoherent. When he moved both his thumbs in tandem to work her throbbing nub, she cried out his name in ecstasy. Her legs pressed against the sides of his head and her hips undulating against his face, demanding his full efforts and attention till the very end of her transcendence. She crested the wave and fell off the cliff. In free fall, she clawed at his scalp and waled with pleasure._

_As her breathing returned to normal and her inner thighs quivered from the aftershocks and exertion, he could not resist pulling her knees up just enough to bring her entire backside up off the bed as his tongue drew a wet, reverential trail from her clit and through her folds, and beyond. She inhaled sharply when he went where she never thought he would. That was not a particular kink of hers but knowing his want for her was insatiable and his desire for all of her was that overpowering made her toes curl._

_She needed to feel him inside her. She pulled his chin up and looked into his eyes. She wanted to tell him how beautiful he made her feel. How she never felt wanted as much as he made her feel, but the words did not form. She leaned in and hope her kiss could convey the feelings she had at this moment. She moved back on the bed and Sidney removed his pants and shoes. She got on her knees, reached for him and pulled him on top of her. He tried to balance himself on his forearms so as not to crush her, but she wanted his weight. He needed to feel all of him on her, which had the additional effect of comforting her an making her feel safe._

_Sidney began slowly grinding himself against her, teasing her opening with his round tip. The motion did give her a pretty good idea of just how much cock she was working with here. And her initial suspicions were confirmed. Indeed, she had never laid eyes on something this enormous. She brough a hand down to touch it and he gasped. He tiny fingers running up the length of him was almost too much for him. But he already knew what she must be thinking. “I will never hurt you, Charlotte,” he said breathlessly, “we will go at your pace. You can stop me at any time…”_

_That would not do. Charlotte needed him. She needed to feel all of him – the pain and the pleasure. She pushes him onto his back and straddled him. She began rubbing the tip of his cock through her dripping folds. Back and forth in a confident rhythm. As he got slicker from her juices, she eased down and felt the pleasant stretch of her opening. Her hips begin to sway back and forth automatically, her body knowing what it wanted. It vetoed any attempt to ease onto him. With one more roll of her hips, she sank down the rest of him and groaned. Sidney filled her and stretched her completely. She had never had anything so big before. Not even Susan’s beloved vibrator that brought both of them intense pleasure again and again. This was something else entirely. Deep and wide, she swore she could feel him in her abdomen. She moved up and down quickly, already addicted to the pounding he was giving her insides. The noises she made were arousing and hot and the way she called his name at the end of every thrust was straight out of his dirtiest fantasies. Sidney was not convinced, however, that they were coming from the right side of the pleasure pain divide and grabbed her hips before she could lower herself with such force again. “I don’t want to hurt you, Charlotte. You are so tight; I want to give you pleasure not pain.”_

_“Sidney, please. Please,” Charlotte almost whined, “Don’t hold back. I want to feel all of you inside me” OK, this was a literal porn dream, Sydney thought. Or, maybe I am dead and made it to heaven on a technicality, all he knows is this cannot be the woman he gets to spend the rest of his life with. “We can work up to that, beautiful. But nothing would make me sadder than if I hurt you. I want to make love to you and make you feel as good as you make me feel”._

_Charlotte leans over him, placing both her hands on his chest to look at him, continuing with the powerful flick of her hip, bringing her self down along his full length. “Sidney. I want to feel you let go. Let your body do what it wants to me. I want to feel you lose control. Don’t be afraid you will hurt me. Show me how much you want me ” She said as she forcefully pushed all the way down on him, making both of them scream. “Please Sidney. I want to feel you. I want to ache from you. Please. Take me…..as hard as you can.”_

_Sidney was aroused by her demands and a bit bemused. Charlotte body is tiny and she is so delicate, but she has the sexual appetite of a character in a rap song, he thinks, as she continues to pump up and down his entire length. “Please, Sidney. I am yours. Take me and do what you want to me.” He can barely think his cock is so hard. And her pitch was working. He could feel his mind slowly ceding power to his body._

_He could deny her nothing. And after a few more seconds he felt himself slipping under the spell of her hips. He looked up at her riding his cock and he is sure he has never seen anything more beautiful than Charlotte in the throes of pleasure and pain. Her eyes are wild, and she won’t stop begging. “Harder, Sidney. Please. Don’t hold back,” she moans as she increases the speed of her hips and he swears he hits her deeper and deeper with every pump. His mind is caught. This is the single sexiest thing a woman has ever done on top of him, but he is truly concerned with hurting her. Her screams are agonizing and erotic and come from somewhere deep inside her. Almost beastly grunts and she pounds down on him, “ooooohhhhhuh huh huh, yes, Sidney, yes. Uuuh, uuuuh, uuuuh.” She is unbridled in her enthusiastic ride on his cock. Over. And over. And once more he sees her crest the wave and her face contort in pleasure. He can no longer hold back. He quickly turns her over on her back any settles himself with one arm on either side of her head. He continues to move inside her and once he locks eyes with her while she lies beneath him, he begins to chase his pleasure with everything he has. Their bodies smack together, and he builds up force and speed as her begging becomes a steady steam. “please. please.please .please.please,” she is screaming as her hips move to meet his with equal power. He can feel the roll of pleasure building in him as their hips collide with such force, he knows they will both be bruised tomorrow. Charlotte’s head is thrown back as she grunts, he can see her vocal cords vibrate in her neck. He is desperate to grab hold of something or else his passion will leave him unmoored and he will drown. He bends his head down and digs his teeth into her shoulder. It is the only place he could grab on to as his body explodes and he shoots his hot cum deep, deep inside her, his own moaning and grunting louder than he can recall ever having. Charlotte’s hips don’t slow as she pumps the last bit of cum from his cock, repeating over and over, “uuuuuuuuhh. Baby. Yes. Sidney. Yes.” She is sweating and her eyes are almost completely closed, but she is still calling out his name, and clinging to his shoulders. This is his wife. She just road his cock harder than he has ever felt before, and still is still pulsing her hips back and forth, ready for more. As he comes back down to earth, he is surprised to find his teeth dug into her shoulder and when he moves to kiss her, he can see the welts he has left behind. He feels like a wild animal. Far from being tamed by her, she has returned him to the wild and he was now a wanton predator who had just subdued his prey. It felt electric. He leans down and kisses her slowly. Deeply. Lovingly. He is not sure what he has just experienced, but he cannot let go of her. He rolls to his side and pulls her onto him. Her head on his chest, and their legs still entwined._

_She listens to his heartbeat and rubs her hand across his chest. His warmth and his arms around her can only be described as safety. He took her and made her his. Her body and her heart never having been desired, cherished and loved together at the same exact time. She held nothing back, and though she should feel exposed and terrified from exposing her true desires, she was not. Charlotte cannot think of a time she felt this powerful. And this loved. She drifts off to sleep in Sidney's arms to his whispers, “I love you, Charlotte…..I love you…..I love you….I am yours….Please, never let me go.”_


	17. Babbers...Get Your Girl.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Babbers and Crowe being Babbers and Crowe. Mostly plot and character development... Next Chapter is pure Sidlotte.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> APOLOGIES for the long wait. This whole real word thing is a time-suck. I do hope to do a chapter a week now. THANK YOU for all of the check-ins and notes. I am bowled over that so many people are following my silly Sidlotte in Vegas story. It is such a lovely feeling. Thank you.

Ch 17

Babbers -Get Your Girl

“That was useless,” Babbers thought has he headed back to his hotel room. He was intrigued by the new Mrs. Parker. She was….altogether unexpected. And Parker seemed different. Not in a bad way, mind you. Since the moment Babbers met Sidney, he was driven. That’s the only word he could think of. No one worked harder, showed less cracks, or pushed past obstacles like Parker. It was not until their senior year of Berkshire that Babbers learned Parker’s origin story. Sidney never discussed his family, especially his siblings. When his older brother showed up on campus senior year, no one would have believed he was related to Sidney. A jittery, thin-lipped, filthy-clothed mess. Tom showed up in front of the eating hall during lunch the week before Thanksgiving Break. The air outside had that first nip of winter, even though the golden, red, orange and yellow leaves were still falling prettily across campus. His khakis were soiled, his hair was greasy, and his sunglasses were crooked. He looked 40 but was probably only 25 and he leaned against the pillar of the building near its entrance inspecting every person who walked past him. He clearly wasn’t a student there, but he didn’t look like he worked there either. As we headed from the science lecture hall to lunch, Crowe spotted the waif-like figure first and leaned into Sidney and I and asked, “whose weed dealer delivers to campus?” with a self-satisfied howl. Before he looked up, Sidney’s whole body tensed, and his jaw clenched. Without a word, he locked eyes with the interloper, and hastened his steps toward the man who clearly knew who he was. Sidney grabbed his arm and quickly maneuvered him around the back of the building and down toward the staff parking lot. Crowe and I shared a look of confusion but said nothing more about it to each other or anyone else. We headed into the dining hall and let Parker manage whatever that was on his on his own. 

Later that night, after study hall, Babbers went to Sidney’s room. The energy in Parker’s room told me he was not going to discuss it. He was doing push-ups in the middle of his spare room, and only stopped momentarily to see who entered upon his, grunted response to Babbers’ knock. He saw Babbers and went right back to work. By far the fittest guy at school, this was less training than tension release. If we were allowed out of the dorms after evening study hall, I imagine Parker would be on mile 10 around campus at his usual brisk pace. 

I sat on his bed and just waited. Waited for him to finish his set or to till he felt compelled to explain. Neither of those things happened. And after at least 50 push-ups since I entered the room, I ventured a guess, “That a friend of yours this afternoon?” Sidney turned his head, did not stop his push-up and replied, “no.” 

Sidney would make a great witness in trial, Babbers thought; narrowly answering only the exact question presented. No more information than necessary. 

“C’mon, Sidney. You must need someone to talk to about it. This place is filled with unhappy kids from crazy families. We are all just rich, so it adds a veneer of sophistication and Greek-level tragedy. But really, we all have families that have fucked us up.” 

Sidney stopped at that. He sat down on the floor of his room and focused intently on counting the wooden floorboards. First by twos, then threes. He looked at Babbers trying to assess how much of his story he could trust him with. No one knew it all. Sidney kept it tightly wound inside. No chink in his armor could be allowed. He knew he needed to be twice as smart, faster, and stronger to get where his classmates were going to leisurely land. His brother was like an albatross around his neck – he could never be as quick, agile, or committed with his lot tied to his brothers. But after almost 4 years, Babbers was the closest thing Sidney had to a real friend and confidant. If he couldn’t trust him, Sidney truly would never be able to trust anyone. 

“That,” Sidney said in a tinny and quiet voice Babbers had never heard from him before, “was my brother, Tom.” Babbers just nodded his head, silently, encouraging him to continue. “He has never really ‘found his lane.’ He is eight years older than me. He had a full soccer scholarship to Brown. He got to college and met all sorts of glamorous “children of” there. Lots of interesting people with interesting drugs. He admired their far-more-glamourous lives and just got swept up. He fell for a girl whose dad was a film producer. Tatiana. He spent his summer after freshman year as a PA on the set of that fil, ‘Boiler Room’ with her. Her father had arranged it for them. They hung out with all the actors during the shoot and he come home with dreams of being a Hollywood screenwriter. And a budding heroin addiction. He and Tatiana both. 

My parents were bowled over by Tatiana’s family. For generations, our family were farmers on long island. Our money comes from the sale of thousands of acres of farmland to developers. My grandfather kept some of the best bits for himself, but he was a farmer’s son. No education. No sophistication. At least on my mom’s side. My dad was the son of a local real estate agent who worked closely with my grandparents. When they began to sell off parcels of land. My mom and he met at high school and married before either of them could drink legally,” Sidney shrugged and rolled his eyes at that detail, “seemed like a good idea in the late 1970s, I guess. Neither had ever left Suffolk County until their honeymoon, when they went to Ireland. All that to say they were starry-eyed by Tatiana’s entertainment industry family. They had a townhouse on the upper east side, and big house next to Stephen Spielberg on Meadow Lane in East Hampton. Tom was essentially adopted by her family. They loved him and he was in awe of their access and lifestyle. He and Tatiana moved in together off campus sophomore year. By Christmas he was kicked off the soccer team and lost his scholarship. Our parents agreed to continue to pay for Brown but told him he had to get his grades up and not fritter away an Ivy League education. Those kinds of credentials still mean a lot to my family. We are farmers who won the lottery – Like in that old show, Green Acres, we are not a sophisticated bunch. My father wants us to feel equal to anyone we encounter. He has always been plagued by feeling less educated and worldly than the folks we live around and bump into. 

Anyway, the next summer, Tom and Tatiana went out to LA to work on ‘the lot’ at Universal Pictures – another job arranged by Tatiana’s father. By the end of that summer, Tom had branched out to cocaine, meth, and still heroine. That is his first love, apparently. 

Anyway, during Thanksgiving break of his junior year of college, we were all invited to Tatiana’s family’s home in New York for Thanksgiving dinner. My parents were nervous. I remember it well. I was 12 and had a big swim competition that Saturday – regionals at UCONN. All I cared about was getting my practice in before we drove to the city. After dinner, we all drove home, but Tom stayed back with Tatiana’s family in NYC. They were going to head back to school with after the weekend from there. We said goodbye and I really only remember the traffic on the Long Island Expressway. Arthur and Diana - my two younger siblings - had been such excellent dinner guests at Tatiana’s house my parents let them have McDonalds milkshakes on the way home. That was a big celebration – my parents never let us eat fast food – I mean we did, but not with them. That Saturday my dad and I woke up at 5 am to drive to Bridgeport Connecticut – the meet started at 9 am. I placed first in the breaststroke and my relay team won silver. Dad was pissed about the silver. Tatiana’s family had given my dad the idea that Berkshire School would be good for me. Its where Tatiana went, and they thought with my athleticism I’d likely get a scholarship, I would enjoy the relationships and connections I could make. I had already submitted my and application and Tatiana’s dad had called some of the trustees he knew. The whole ride home Dad explained to me very calmly that I “could never get into a place like this with second place scores in the pool.” Sidney shook his head as thought he was imagining that car ride home in his mind. His eyes shifted, and he cleared his throat. Any smile was replaced by a faraway look in his eye. “When we got home My mom was in tears. Tatiana was dead. Tom was in the hospital. They had gone to a party on the Lower East Side on Friday night. Anyway, they both did several lines of coke with a DJ Tatiana knew from somewhere. It was laced with rat poison and Tom, Tats and the DJ all went into cardiac arrest and were rushed to the hospital. Only Tatiana could not be revived. Tom was in a coma, but he woke a few days later. “ Sidney was now up and pacing around the room for the rest of the story. Babbers took it all in in silence. “Tatiana’s family blamed Tom. Tom blamed Tom. He never went back to Brown. He lived at home doing nothing till the next summer. After that he claimed he was “moving to LA,” to work in the writer’s room for Monk. A friend he made when he was at Universal got him the gig. My mom explained to him that if he didn’t want to go back to Brown he could transfer to another college, even UCLA, but he could not stop schooling. Tom said he would, but never applied anywhere. My Dad convinced my mom that maybe it would be good for him to try a new environment. He flew off to LA and I came here to start school. He never made his way up the ladder in the writer’s room, or anywhere else. Last we had heard he was bartending in Silverlake. Today was the first time I had seen him since I got to school here. He’s home and wanted to apologize to me for leaving. And for… Well, all of it. He wants to move home. Maybe finish college. He always loved Amagansett and felt my Dad was wasting the last bit of grandpa’s land – he could develop it himself and make a ton of money. Keep the best beachfront for himself, and sell luxury, modern beachfront estates to rich hedge funders. That was what he was always telling my Dad he should do. Well, he is headed back there. He showed me a coin. Like a talisman of his sobriety. He is 60 days sober - free of all drugs and alcohol and wants to make amends to me and to our family.” Sidney seemed to be trying to think of what else to say. He shifted back to Babbers and clapped his hands. “And that is the Parker family secret. He wants me to drive home with him to my parent’s house for thanksgiving.” 

Babbers and Sidney talked late that night. And the next day Babbers said goodbye to Sidney and met Tom, briefly. Tom was welcomed home by his father with open arms. His mother was not sure what to make of the old man who returned from Los Angeles full of apologies and plan but was grateful to have her children all together that thanksgiving. 

Thinking back to that time, Babbers realized that Sidney’s unsung role as savior, fixer, advisor had been established long ago. Everyone came to Sidney for something. In college everyone wanted Sidney’s advice on the eating club to join, how to get the right internship, how to ask a girl out, what party he would be at on any given night. In business school, everyone wanted Sidney to review their resume and to review Sidney’s notes from finance class. In his career, clients brought their most vexing projects to him and asked for his help to fund them. He structured complex financial arrangements and moreover educated clients on how to best deploy the assets. He was a rare mix of sage advisor and fearless negotiator. Everyone wanted Sidney’s point of view. Even today, Babbers could not make a move with Esther without his advice. He never thought about it before, but it must be exhausting. Everyone turning to you, bringing you in to their mess and anxiety. No wonder the man loved to beat the crap out of people in the ring. He must imagine his opponents are all of us: clients, his brother, friends. 

He pondered the basis of Sidney’s fascination with Charlotte. What did she need? Or, maybe that was it, she didn’t ask anything of him except for him to be himself. Whatever the pull, he was just glad to see Sidney acting on his own interests and instincts. Even if it is a little soon. Babbers knew how long Sidney had been unhappy with Eliza. He felt Sidney was due some affection and adventure. 

As for his own adventure, he had no better plan than he did this morning. He wondered if he should listen to the new Mrs. Parker. It sounded a bit out there – she seemed a bit out there. But, the “lay it all out on the table” nature of her advice appealed to Babbers sense of forthrightness. No time to beat around the bush, nor did he have patience for it, either. Her advice did not fit into any methodology Babbers had previously applied to “solve for yes,” as he is fond of saying. But the clock was ticking. It was the proverbial last down and he was nowhere near the endzone. Maybe a Hail Mary pass was his only hope. 

Crowe texted – canceling on him for dinner. Babbers was relieved. The idea of sharing his worry about Esther with Crowe did not appeal to him and he was pretty sure he was not going to be able to think of anything else until he saw her again. He texted back, telling him all was well. He’d try and catch him for a drink later in the evening.

Babbers went back to his room. He had 4 hours to kill. He was going to do what he does best in moments of high stress and indecision. He would take a nap.

***

Crowe left his meeting with Scarlett and was unsure what he was to do next. He was afraid if he tried to head back to his hotel, Clara would materialize out of thin air to black his attempt. He looked around the lobby to see if he could spot her. As he looked around, he decided it seemed safest to just go to her instead of suffering another Clara-bomb when he least expected it. He headed to the elevator bank and sent her a text. “I am on my way up. Are you still hungry?” Almost instantly, his phone buzzed.

5.15 pm Clara: I am still pissed. And hungry. Will ScarJo be joining us? I’m up for it if she’s curious…….

Crowe could not help but smile. The elevator opened on Clara’s floor and he headed straight for her room. 

***

The nap was just what he needed. Babbers did his best problem-solving napping. He ordered steak frites and red wine to his room and headed into the shower. 

Walking through the lobby of the Wynn at 11 pm he felt the cadence of his hear beat quicken. He always loved the rush of adrenaline before a negotiation, and this felt no different. The fact she was so dismissive of him spurred him to be more creative and strategic – this is where he was at his happiest. His phone vibrated and he scanned the Casino floor

11.04 pm Crowe: Come play roulette, Clara is killing it!

Oh, its Clara now, he thought. He’d wanted to type some quip back about Crowe’s budding attachment to said, “Clara,” but seeing Parker so happy and the bottle of red wine he had with his steak had put Babbers in a magnanimous mood. Babbers also believed in some cosmic force that seeks a certain balance and “true equity” and believed in Karma was at work in the world. He needed the force tonight and did not want to risk any opposing energy - other than Esther’s – this evening with petty jealousy. 

Walking up to the Roulette table he could see Crowe looking adoringly at the statuesque woman beside him. She clearly just rolled some good numbers, and the whole table was celebrating. Crowe didn’t even see Babbers approach as he planted a kiss on the object of his adoration and Babbers came up close behind him and whispered in his ear, “mmmmm. That was nice.”

“Babbers!” Crowe bellowed, “Welcome. We’ve been keeping an eye on your quarry.” Crowe nodded his head in the direction of the Baccarat table. Every seat was filled, and Esther wore a mirthless expression as she moved the palette around. Aa sly, and excited grin crept across Babbers whole face. 

“Clara. Babbers,” Crowe said formally. “Now you’ve met the third amigo.” “So, you are the one crushing on the croupier,” Clara said by way of hello. “Indeed, I am. It is a rare pleasure to meet any friend of Crowe’s,” Babbers responded, taking her hand to shake and making eye contact. Almost like a genuine human, Clara thought. He didn’t even give me a once over. That’s two friends of Crowe’s who upon first impression, seem to be decent, stand-up men. Noted, Clara thought. 

“So, what’s your plan? Red over there does not seem to be open to much, let alone lame pick-up lines.” Clara smiled challengingly at Babbers as she gave her assessment. “Closed off, that one is.” Babbers thought about her comment and looked at Clara thoughtfully, “Right? Its intoxicating,” Babbers replied. 

“Well, as soon as a chair opens, I will make my way over. The night is early. I plan to play a lot of Baccarat, tonight.” 

“You are not going in alone? Don’t be foolish. You need a wing man. Crowe won’t do, Red and he are like oil and water – I can tell from here.” Babbers was amused at her fearlessness, and Crowe appeared genuinely hurt – everybody liked Crowe; he was the life of the party. “Don’t take it personally, honey, you both share a similar view of the opposite sex – ‘presumed fungible until proven otherwise.’ In that way, you have a lot in common. But, that connection turns to repulsion across the gender divide. No, you cannot help your friend.” Babbers and Crowe were speechless. Where did this woman come from, Babbers wondered, as he awaited Crowe’s response. But Crowe just stared at Clara. Babbers could not identify the look. Crowe was rarely inscrutable, Babbers prided himself on always knowing what Crowe was thinking in social situations; he was predictable, along with a host of other things. 

Crowe for his part, had no idea what he was feeling. She was starting to really piss him off with her… With her, what? Her spot-on assessment of his character, he hated to admit. Jesus, this was getting out of control.

“Well, apparently, if I want to help you this evening, I must contribute my date to your fruitless endeavor. I still think you are better off howling at the moon.”

Babbers was not sure how Clara planned on helping, but she certainly did not lack confidence. 

“Babbers. Just do me a favor, when you strike out again, don’t blame it on Clara. She can only do so much with what she is given to work with.” 

“Awe. Thanks, Honey. But, he’s not striking out. I got this.” 


	18. Anniversary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sidney and Charlotte's wedding night begins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK. Hide your children and lock your doors. This is a very NSFW wedding night. What can I say, these two are incorrigible.....and so very much in love.....

Chapter 18

Their breathing synched, and their eyes were locked. Charlotte beneath him. They just laid like that for hours after Babbers left. He’d lean down and kiss her from time to time, as though punctuating a point they had made in the conversation their eyes were having. And her legs would squeeze around his to acknowledge she felt the same way he did. Charlotte was entirely present with Sidney. Even thought they were fully clothed, and didn’t say anything to each other, this was a connection and level of intimacy she has never experienced. And she knew he felt the same way. She smiled up at him and ran her fingers over his lips, gently pulling him down to her and slowly, demandingly, and hungrily, kissed him. 

“Mrs. Parker,” Sidney smiled, as he begrudgingly pulled away to look his wife in the eyes, “There is nowhere else I want to be, and nothing else I want to do than be here with you. But I must insist on one thing.” “Anything, Mr. Parker.” “Food. We must order room service. It is close to 7 pm and I haven’t had a proper meal all day.” Sidney pulled away to find the menu and Charlotte wrapped her body around his, refusing to let him go. Sidney got off the bed and walked to the desk without dropping Charlotte, her arms around his neck, and legs clasped tight around his hips. Charlotte really marveled at his strength. She had already been impressed with the sight of his muscular form. Her body had reacted to the sight of his chiseled chest and abs despite the fact she previously thought herself immune to such shallow pleasures. Now, she realized it was utilitarian as well. She loved his strength. And, unselfconsciously, held on him like a toddler latches on to their parent. They perused the menu together and ordered any array of items, including several deserts – Charlotte’s request. 

As they dined, Charlotte and Sidney arrived at some pivotal areas for discussion. “So where do you live, exactly?” Charlotte queried. She figured he was unlikely to agree to move-in to her studio. She really didn’t care where they lived, she just knew she would not spend one more night without him by her side. 

“Well, at the moment, I am living at the Lowell hotel on the UES. I figured I’d find a place once my divorce was finalized. Now I want us to figure it out together,” Sidney said with an earnestness that made her stomach flutter. 

“I am currently in Brooklyn, as you know,” smiling as she remembered their debate last night on the better borough, “but I think you would need to live closer to the office.” Charlotte forked a slice of avocado from atop her salad and chewed thoughtfully as she waited for his response. 

“I need to live with you and, yes, I would prefer to live in Manhattan, but I would live anywhere that made you happy” Sidney responded. He looked at her and just marveled. Her first thought was what was best for him. Eliza simply picked the best building they could pass the co-op board of. “Where would you want to live if you could live anywhere in New York?” Sidney really wanted to know her preference. He really wanted to make her happy, and just prayed she would be willing to leave Brooklyn with the right temptation. He knew a fancy address was not going to change her mind, but there must be something he could find that would make up for her sacrificing Brooklyn. 

“I don’t know a ton about other neighborhoods. Times Square cause of work, and Brooklyn are my typical stomping ground. What about the upper west side? You could take the 1/9 straight to times square?” Charlotte knew his work was all-consuming and difficult. The last thing she wanted was to add a long commute on to how much time they would spend apart from each other. Sidney moved his chair next to her at the table the butler set for them for dinner when he escorted the room service attendant in with their order. He got really close to her ear and whispered in those deep dark dulcet tones that made her body vibrate inside, “Anywhere we are together is where I want to be. I would even move to Brooklyn, if you really wanted me too. I just want to have a home with you that is ours,” he said as he kissed the delicate skin under her ear. “Please tell me what you want, and I will make it happen,” he eked out between increasingly hot and hungry kisses down her neck. 

“But I don’t want you to make it happen. I want us to make it happen. We are going to make this decision together.” Charlotte explained not turning her head because his lips felt so good as they worked their way down her neck and on to the top of her chest. Her nipples hardened and she began to throb between her legs. She knew they had many more real-world topics to cover, but she needed to feel him. Right now. 

She moved her hand down his chest, and found it rest comfortably right on the bulge in his pants. She let out a moan that sounded like she had been holding it in for a while. With that, Sidney put his hand on her cheek and turned her head so they were face to face. She grabbed his opposite cheek, and moved quickly to meet his pillowy wet lips. The kiss was heated and both grabbed at the other greedily with their lips, but they took their time. Charlotte was agonizingly seductive with her tongue, slowly caressing Sidney’s while she moved her other hand through his dark curls. Her body was hot, and she could feel her throbbing middle get wetter as the kisses trailed down lower until she felt his tongue arrive at the top of the valley between her breasts.   
“Charlotte…..Oohhh god…… You are such a sensuous creature. I don’t think I will ever get enough of you.” Sidney was starting to feel hot and his skin damp, his temperature rising from his desire, and could think of nothing but her intoxicating smell, and feel of her soft skin on his hands. “Uuuh. Sidney,” Charlotte moaned as she threw her head back and squeezed the curls on the back of his head, pulling him against her breasts. “Please,” Charlotte whined as she moved her other hand to the buttons on his shirt. Sidney pick her up from her chair and wrapped her legs around his waist, holding on to her bottom and headed to the bed. Hovering over the side of the bed, Charlotte unwrapped her legs from him and bent them back to kneel on the bed as she continued to pull his shirt off. Sidney gathered up the skirt of her dress and when he found the hem, pulled it over her head swiftly, allowing Charlotte’s hands to return to his shirt and complete their mission. Bare-chested, Sidney looked like an Adonis and Charlotte slowly pawed at him from his shoulders down his chest, over his hard abs, to the button of his jeans. Charlotte was salivating. Her want for him burned through her body, lighting her brain on fire, rendering her ability to reason inoperable. Sidney cannot take his lips off her body. He moves expertly across her chest, up her neck, and just below her other ear as Charlotte pull his jeans and boxer-briefs down far enough to free his fully erect cock. She moved her hand from the base of his shaft to the top, encircling the tip with her thumb. “Uuuuhh, Sidney,” Charlotte cooed, “you feel so good in my hand. I need to taste you.” And Charlotte proceeded to stand, turn him and push his body down onto the bed, and kneel before him in her sheer bra, and soaking wet panties. Charlotte began to gently spread her fingers as she moved down Sidney’s length, allowing her to rub the length between her pointer and middle finger. Her mouth hovers over his tip, as she slowly moves her tongue over the small pool of liquid tasting the clear evidence of his arousal. 

When her hand finds the base of his thick, tall member, Charlotte’s tongue trails behind it, and continues until she sucks one of his balls pulling it into her mouth forcefully. The groan Sidney emits from his lips makes the folds of wet pussy tingle and she moves to capture the other. Pulling her flat tongue back up to the top, she looks up to see Sidney looking down at her with a dark desire she has not yet seen from him. Breaking eye contact, she adroitly covers his tip with her lips, and sucks in his shaft, only making it halfway down before Sidney can feel the back of her through caress the tip of his cock. Charlotte sucks with such force. Such intensity, the suction she creates with her mouth brings tears to his eyes and Sidney threw his head back moaning in pure ecstasy. When he picks his head back up, he watches as Charlotte takes him in over and over, each time going deeper, and taking more of him in. Sidney cannot speak. Charlottes vice-like grip on his cock is like nothing he has ever experienced. Ever. Eliza, obviously, was never a partial to having his cock anywhere near her face, and he can recall only a handful of times when he had guided her to take him in her mouth. Before Eliza, who remembers details? I few messy, amateur blowjobs were not in the same league. Sidney had not categorized them as bad experiences, it was a blow job – even if it’s bad, ultimately, it still feels pretty good. But this was other worldly. Charlotte worked his long hard cock into her mouth, and she would not stop until she was able to take all of him in and down her throat. 

Sidney’s left hand rested on her head, not to control her movements, but to feel her beautiful curls and to hold on to something as his felt his brain begin to melt from the heat. “Charlotte, My god…..I don’t deserve you.” He could feel her smile in response to his words and then plunged his cock even deeper down her throat. He could feel the wave form inside him, and he was not going to let it come crashing down in Charlotte’s mouth. She was too precious for that. He needed that tight wet pussy on him right now. His hips holding back from ramming himself down deeper into Charlotte’s mouth. He gently tugged at her head and whispered huskily, “Come here…..I need your warmth surrounding me completely.” With that, Charlotte slowly released his cock from her mouth’s demanding grip, and pulled herself up to straddle him, rolling her hips to find his tip. Sidney grabbed her head with both hands and kissed her ferociously. He was losing control. He was completely tantalized by the feelings Charlotte conjured in him. The intense desire in his loins, the animal-like physical need that coursed through his veins and complete bypassed his brain, and the abiding passion in his heart. He knew this woman possessed him. It was an immutable fact. Like gravity. 

As thought possessed, Sydney grabbed Charlotte’s round pert ass and was shocked to feel her thin, transparent panties still on. He could not take her body away long enough to pull the offending fabric down, and without hesitation he moved both hands down and tore her wet panties off of her and dropped them to the floor. As Charlotte moaned and rocked her hips, Sidney pulled her down over his throbbing cock, slowly and carefully so as not to hurt her. Charlotte could not speak.. She ground her breasts into Sidney’s chest and tilted her hips to accept him into her. She groaned loud, unintelligible sounds, that spurred Sydney on. Charlotte pumped up and down rapidly, impatient for her body to get used to his entire girth. She wrapped her arms around Sidney’s neck, and pulled him even deeper inside her. She grabbed his head and kisses him with a level of passion that they were both starting to become acquainted with. She covered his ear with her lips and whispered, ”I need to feel you on top of me. I want your entire body to cover me while you take me.”   
Sidney fantasized about Charlotte’s naked body beneath him, and her request triggered some very ungentlemanly memories, as he stood up, turned and bent down to lay her on the bed, never allowing their hips to part. Charlotte spread her legs wide on the bed, and Sidney could feel himself sink deeper yet into her warm wet center. He could hear her juices slop between them as he began to gently pump in and out of her beyond-wet pussy. Charlotte Raised her hips to meet him and covered his perfectly sculpted bum with both hands to push him deeper still. They both grunted with pleasure, as a primal need inside both of them began to drive their lovemaking. Charlotte was moaning his name over and over, encouraging him to increase his pace further. “Harder, Sidney. As hard as you can. Take me. Show me how you crave me.” Sidney was worried about being too aggressive with her. He could not control his animalistic heat for her, and he knew his strength made his stroke powerful enough to inflict pain or injury, if he was not careful. But Charlotte’s insistence he take her, unleashed his most animalistic desires. He pound himself into her tight ,tight pussy over and over, looking down at her the whole time to detect any pain or discomfort on her face. 

  
But Charlortte was not in pain. She was in ecstasy from his unbridled desire. To be taken by this man, who was blind in his passion and want of her, was the single most incredible sexual experience she ever felt. Her whole body tingled, and the ache from his huge cock pounding her, deeper and deeper still, hurt just the right amount to bring her to the edge. She could feel herself begin to lose control. Her orgasm did not build slowly, it came all at once, and Charlotte’s entire body convulsed and jerked to and fro as she screamed, “yes. Yes. Uuhh. Sidney, don’t stop. Uuh. Uuhh. Uuuuuuuh. Oh my god. I am coming baby,” she screamed as her arms clenched around his neck, and her hot and slippery wet walls squeezed his cock with wave after wave of her pleasure. Charlotte’s head swung back and forth on the pillow, her eyes closed, and her brow furrowed. “Sidney! Sidney……Yes. Baby. Yesss…..UUuh. Uuuuhhhh.” She clung to him and she continued to grunt and moan; her orgasm lasting longer than she could recall feeling before. She was in awe of what he did to her body. Watching him let go and unleash his passion and desire was almost a spiritual experience. This part of him was so well hidden, yet she coaxed it out of him and reveled in the way he took her so forcefully when his true self was let out to roam. This was the man she saw just last night sitting next to her in the garden outside the Wynn. This was the man she danced with and the man who looked deep inside her soul every time she locked eyes with him. This man wanted her with every fiber of his being. She just knew it. She believed not just his words, but his actions; the way he held her, how he looked at her. She could not recall ever really knowing what someone’s true feeling or intentions were. Sidney held back nothing, he made his love and adoration plain to her and she knew she had never loved like she loved this man. 

  
For his part, Sidney had been tensing his whole body, trying to hold off from emptying himself inside her before he could make her feel as good as she did to him. Her orgasm caught him off guard, but he had never seen anything so sexy. Her hair whipping back and forth as she swinger her head side to side, the feel of her nails dug deep into his back, and the tight warmth of her pussy had him ready to explode almost immediately upon entering her. He watched his beautiful wife come hard, and he knew he could not hold back. One last pump that he thrust into her as hard as he could and he was caught in the undercurrent of a huge wave of pleasure, tumbling and tossing in wave after wave. He lost track of the room around him and for a minute felt as though he was free falling after jumping off a cliff. He jerked his whole body in reaction to the sensation and was brought back to the present by Charlotte’s screams of pleasure. They both continued to pump even after cresting the wave, and Charlotte was gifted with another low wave of pleasure that rippled through her entire body. As their hips slowed, Sidney just repeated over and over, “ I love you. I love you. I love you.” Until he came to rest with his full weight on top of her. Charlotte wrapped her legs around him and squeezed him as close as possible to her. She felt him begin to pull some of his weight off of her and she squeezed him back down on top of her. “Stay. Stay inside me. Put all your weight on me. I am yours and I want all of you…everything you are.” The stayed wrapped in each other’s arms with Sidney’s spent, languid frame collapsed on top of her until their breathing returned to as close to normal as it got when they were with each other. Sidney lifted his head out of the crook of Charlotte’s neck. And just stared at her with pure love in his eyes. He could think of nothing but her and how to make her feel as loved, desired, and cherished, as she made him feel. 

Charlotte turned to look right back at Sidney. Her smile took up all of the whole lower half of her face, and her eyes glowed with love and pleasure. She could barely believe it and had to say it out loud to assure herself it was true, “You are all mine, Sidney Parker. I will never let you go.” They fell asleep caressing each other and whispering terms of love and awe to the other. Sidney rest his head on her chest and closed his eyes. Charlotte ran her fingers through his hair as he fell into a deep and fully satisfied slumber and she followed shortly thereafter.

Charlotte woke again a few hours later to the sensation of her husband’s tongue wide and flat, making its way to her left nipple. She could feel her body immediately quiver with desire and knew even thought Sidney has stayed inside her, She started to get wet again like they hadn’t touched each other in days. Sidney felt her move and looked up at her. “I could not help myself. I cannot get enough of your taste and your smell or your….everything.” Charlotte smiled and moved her hands down his back, not stopping at his waist, she grabbed his backside at the same minute she rolled her hips up to take him deeper?  
“Mmmmmm,” Charlotte seductively moaned, knowing he loved how deep she could take him. “Well, my handsome husband, I am afraid we are in the same boat. I cannot get enough of you.” Their body came together again fast and furious, their hips slapping each other from the force of their mutual pumping. Neither could slow down, and both of them whispered loving and occasionally filthy things to the other. “You pussy is so tight, Charlotte,” Sidney said breathlessly. “I want all of you. I need all of you.” He felt rabid, expressing himself honestly, without fear of offend his delicate and yet ravenous wife. Charlotte was like no other woman he had ever fantasized about, let alone met. Charlotte, for her part, could not seem to stop screaming his name. “Sidney……Sidney…..Sidney. Oh baby don’t stop. Don’t hold back. ever.” They both reached their climax together, panting and bathed in sweat they each planted tiny kisses on the others neck, each time whispering, “I love you,” just before their lips found the others skin again. 

Drained and utterly mesmerized, Sidney rolled over onto his side, bringing charlotte’s leg with him and placing it around his thigh. He could not continue to crush her with his weight, but he was not ready to separate from her either and held her close to making sure he did not slip out of her warmth. 

After that, they both went back to the feast they had ordered and brought food back to bed. They fed each other spoonfulls of crème brulee and apple galette with very melted vanilla ice cream dripping off their spoons. Ice cream dribbled onto Sidney’s thigh as Charlotte brought her spoon to his mouth. She left the spoon dangling between Sidney’s lips and leaned down to make sure her tongue cleaned up all of the mess she made. When she sat back up, licking her lips, she slipped the spoon from his mouth. Sidney could not think and seemed to be trying hard to swallow. 

Lying in bed, they solved many pressing issues: They would stay at the Lowell together for one week. By then they hoped to have rented a place in Brooklyn, where they would stay only until they could fine and renovate an apartment with a view of Central Park. Charlotte felt like this was a huge concession of Sidney’s and she silently noted to herself that she would approve any apartment and any location in Brooklyn he selected. 

They also worked out that Charlotte would keep her studio, for now. Sidney had an idea of buying her an industrial space closer to wherever they settled permanently. He could not imagine her so far from him when she painted, especially if she continued to work and went to paint at night and on the weekends. And, Charlotte wanted to continue working. At least for now. It was a great job to keep up with her rent at the Cove, and to purchase tools and materials for her art. But, Charlotte explained to Sidney how she was wary of the plan to expand her function to an entire department, serving all of the Investment banking division. Sidney was torn. His instinct was to wrap her up and protect her from all the vagaries of the soul sucking 9-5 capitalist slog. Why should she pimp herself out just to pay rent – he served that role and had not only come to terms with it but was rather proud of the career he built. Besides he was already planning all the things he dreamed of doing to her at work and where in the offices he would do them. Yeah, he needed her to leave Morgan Sachs or he’d get both of them fired. 

Their toughest conversation was about Sidney’s travel schedule. Neither of them could pretend he didn’t travel around the world often. And Sidney did love his work. Charlotte began to get fidgety; anxious about the idea that they would be separated up to 2 weeks every month. She looked down and became focused intently on the skin around her thumbnail, pulling off invisible-to-anyone-else strips of skin. Sidney, too, was physically reacting to the idea. His breath got shallow and he looked at her, trying to meet her eyes, which she would not lift from her seemingly thorough inspection of her thumb. He knew what needed to happen. He just was not sure how he could make it work. 

Sidney sat back against the headboard and pulled Charlotte over to him, fitting her snuggly between his legs as he wrapped his arms around her waist and coaxed her to lean back on his chest. He took her hands and intertwined them with his and he settled his chin on her shoulder, turning his head so his lips rested right on the spot her neck met her jawline. “I am not going to be able to be away from you for that long. Ever. We will figure this out. I can delegate a lot of the travel, do video conferences. And when only I can do a client meeting, you will come with me. I would love to show you the parts of the world I work in. Camaroon, Turkey, Jordan, Yemen. They feel like a different point on the time-space continuum than the one we occupy. I want to show these places to you,” he said in an almost whisper, his lips brushing against her skin as he spoke. “I want to build a new kind of life with you, Charlotte, I do not want to just fold you into mine. Our life together will look different for both of us.” “You are quite the feminist,” Charlotte teased as she wiped an errant tear before it rolled down her cheek. “I am not sure I qualify for such a moniker, honestly. This is no stance on principle. I want to do this for you and for a life I want to build with you. Is that feminist? I think I am a devout, evangelical, Charlotte-ist, and I worship at her alter.” They both broke into giggles as he wrapped her more tightly in his arms and she breathed deep and sunk further into his chest. For the second time that weekend, they both just knew it would turn out right. 

Charlotte luxuriated in Sidney’s embrace, feeling more settled and sure of their impulsive move to meld their lives into one. “What time is it, Charlotte asked,” as she leaned her head back to kiss Sidney’s ear and run the tip of her nose down the back of his neck, taking a deep breath of his comforting scent. Home never felt this secure and warm. Charlotte hoped Sidney felt as safe and loved as he made her feel. 

  
“It’s 9.45 pm,” Sidney said as he picked up his phone off the nightstand, his incredulity made his eyes widen. Another new expression on her husband’s face that warmed her inside. “This is what you get when you take your wife to bed at 5.00 pm in the afternoon,” Charlotte teased.

  
“Well, my love, the night is still young. In fact, if we wait six minutes, we can celebrate out one day anniversary. 9.51 pm was when you turned to me at that black-jack table and changed my life.” Charlotte picked her head up and looked Sidney straight in the eyes. Hers filled with tears, as she moved into to kiss him passionately. Overcome by the speed, the certitude, the rightness, and the indisputable intervention of the divine of their love, they held each other close well past 9.51 pm. 


	19. Group Effort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All hands on deck. Babers needs some love...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realize one of the downsides to post a story chapter chapter by chapter. You cannot go back and edit plot or timelines or dialog that would help or serve a purpose later on. Specifically, I never did a chapter on Esther's background. Initially I thought we should know as little about her as Babber's does. But now I kind of wish the reader understood her motivation and reason behind her decidedly chilly response to Babbers entreaties. 
> 
> Lesson Learned. 
> 
> THANK YOU all for sticking with me. I love ALL OF THE COMMENTS. Even if I can't respond, I read them all and am grateful. For those who have asked, I have tons of notes on 'Sidlotte NYC,' but think this 'book' will sum up as the weekend in Vegas ends. BUT, I could be persuaded to give you a "SEASON TWO" of this story, at least.

Ch. 19 Group Effort

  
Clara was more than sure she could hook Red on Babbers, she just could not figure out how. He was a catch, and not just because he was loaded. Crowe could not shut up about how Babbers was “salt of the earth.” And everything Clara observed did not contradict that. Plus, she liked his energy, corny jokes and all. 

“Alright, Let’s move to Baccarat!,” was the rallying cry Clara declared as she gathered up her winnings and headed to the opening seat at Esther’s table. Babbers followed suit. Crowe was busy flagging down a waiter to order a scotch for him and Babbers. As though she was reading his mind, Clara called back, “Vodka tonic,” she called out to him. Crowe added it to his order. Indeed he does respond well to direct commands. 

Clara and Babbers did not have seats next to each other, and Clara preferred that for her purposes. He looked nervous, however, which was never good. 

“Back again Mr. Babington,” Esther said, with no hint of a smile. “Indeed, Esther, I found I could not stay away.” She dealt out the first card to the table and waited for bets to be made. “Why do you persist when you are treated with such little civility, Mr. Babington?” 

“Perhaps it is the fascination of what’s difficult,” he offered. “Impossible, Babington. The harsh reality of what is impossible, you mean.” Esther responded. “Oooof. You’ve been told. I’d back off of her if you know what’s good for you, Babington,” Clara offered from a seat two down from Babbers. 

Esther, turned her head in an instant, and glared at what she saw as a brainless blonde. She took an instant dislike to her.

Crowe was watching from a safe distance and interpreted that as a bad sign. He really hated the idea of Babbers striking out. Poor devil deserved a win in the ladies category. He quickly shot off a text to Sidney.

11.45 pm Crowe: SOS. SOS. SOS..  
11.45 pm Crowe: Babbers is down. Repeat, Babbers is down.

Sidney heard his phone vibrate on his nightstand. He and Charlotte had taken a shower and were just settling back into bed, planning on sleeping. Really. That was all they wanted. To lie in bed and drift off to sleep in each other’s arms. 

It buzzed again.

11.47 pm Crowe: Seriously, Parker. If you and your new wife could come make an appearance, maybe we can convince her he may seem like dork, but a dork who is good with money and doesn’t beat women. 

“You should get that. It could be important,” Charlotte said gently, while kissing his chest and running her fingers over his cut abdomen. She knew his work, and now as she thought about it, she could not believe he had not checked his phone since he came to collect her at the pool this morning. That had to be some kind of a record for someone as senior as he was at Morgan Sachs. 

“I am sure there is nothing as important as this right here.” She smiled. He was just….all she ever wanted plus everything she didn’t know she needed. But, she had a feeling they would regret not at least checking what was making his phone buzz. Picking her head up from his chest, she gave him a quick, chaste peck on the lips. “Just check. If it’s nothing, you can have the satisfaction of having been right. Just don’t get used to it,” she giggled out the last few words, unable to play it straight. “Apparently, that’s a big thing when you’re married. Always letting your wife be right.” Sidney grabbed his phone and looked at her and exhaled. “I have no doubt my wife will be right far more often than I will be,” leaning in and kissing her again. Together, they went through his most recent text messaged. They read Crowe’s SOS and Charlotte pulled the covers off and climbed out of bed. Sidney felt the absence of her heat immediately. “C’mon. He needs help. I am not sure what we can do, but let’s go give him some moral support, in his hour of romantic need,” Charlotte said as she went to the closet to find something appropriate to wear out. She had packed another ‘look at me’ evening dress, but she felt no need to wear that one for anyone but her husband anymore. 

“Are you sure?” Sidney asked, “I don’t think helping my friend get a date is a romantic wedding night activity?” 

“Of course, it is,” Charlotte said as she stepped into a pair of nude, almost complete sheer, panties and grabbed a cobalt blue princess line dress with a stand collar and cap sleeves that hit just below the knee. A sample size score from a RISD friend’s new capsule collection. Sidney was captivated watching her dress. He would get to watch this sight for the rest of his life, and he knew it would never not grab his full attention. “He is a good friend and he seemed very serious about her when he was here earlier, “she said coming to sit on his side of the bed. “Maybe some of your magic will rub off on him,” She said as she leaned in and gave him a delicate yet ardent kiss. “Then we can sleep right up until we have to leave tomorrow,” She said with a dreamy soft look in her eyes. 

Sidney knew she was right. He did really want to see what, if anything, he could do to help Babbers, thought he could not imagine his presence could be of any use. Sidney dressed quickly as well, opting for a black crewneck sweater, and grey Brioni slacks. His breath caught as he watched Charlotte strap into a pair of silver high-heeled sandals with a studded ankle cuff that reminded him of a dog collar. My god, Sidney thought, as an image of Charlotte with nothing on but those sandals appeared in his mind. When she caught him watching her, she smiled and told him, “I promise I will not take them off tonight,” as though she was reading his mind. 

Sidney took his bill fold, room key and phone and placed them in his pockets. Charlotte brought nothing with her. Instead, she grabbed his hand, and walked with him down to the elevators, then through the lobby and out to a car that appeared to be waiting for them. Never once letting go of him. Sidney knew he had a dopey grin on his face, but he did not care. He held on tight to her hand and never once released it even as he helped her up into the SUV, and slid into the seat next to her. 

“The Wynn, please” Sidney asked, and turned to find Charlotte watching him. They looked at each other the entire way up the strip. 

Inside, the Baccarat table was buzzing. Despite their icy introduction, Clara appeared to be hot tonight, and Esther warmed to her as she remarked, “I have not seen a winning streak this good at one of my tables in years,” now more jovial with everyone at the table. Except Babbers.   
“I just get a feeling about things,” Clara said, as she placed her next bet. “I have a fairly good track record. At least tonight. I just came off hot from the roulette table.” “Huh, another game that is all luck and no skill. You are having a very lucky night,” Esther remarked as Clara again had the pair closest to the Dealer’s hand and won again. 

Babbers, was doing as well at the game as he was with Esther. Which is to say, he was losing. And, worse, he felt the clock ticking. It added an extra layer of anxiety to the whole affair. He wasn’t sure why he needed to get to know her, but he just did. When he was this sure of something, he was rarely wrong. In business at least. Perhaps this was different. As much as he liked to think the same rules of game theory were involved in negotiating anything, Esther was certainly questioning his resolve on that topic. He thus far was unimpressed with Clara’s performance. Far from being there to help, she seemed to be ignoring him while she racked up win after win. Esther was entertained by Clara, but it did not seem to translate into any Babbers love. 

“What’s the matter Babbers striking out on all fronts, tonight?” Clara asked loudly from across the table. “It’s not over till its over, Clara,” Babington offered back. “Indeed. Speaking of, Esther when is your shift over? My friend got married last night and we are toasting them with some Champagne later tonight. Come by after this ,” Clara said as she moved her hand in a circular motion around the mostly older, heavier group of men at the table, “is over.” 

“A wedding? In Vegas? How novel?” Esther said adding an eyeroll for emphasis.   
  
“And an impromptu one, at that, ” Clara added conspiratorial. 

“Charming. Perhaps you should save the festivities for the inevitable divorce.” 

“I am not sure. Do, you believe in love at first sight, Esther?” Clara placed her bet, not even looking at her card. No, a more important game was afoot. 

“No.” Esther said decisively.  
  
“Yeah, me neither, but that’s exactly what happened to my friend. Her first time in Vegas,” Clara Added. 

“Oooh. Rookie mistake,” Esther said with a certain sympathy for this unknown friend of Clara’s. 

Hooked, Clara thought. Now all she needed to do was get Esther to meet Charlotte and her husband. God that sounded weird, Clara thought. Charlotte’s husband. She tried many times since she had met Charlotte but could not imagine the type of man Charlotte found attractive. At one point, Clara even wondered if Charlotte was more into women. She was completely untempted by any of the men at work. Clara could not understand that.

“I know. That’s what I thought.” Clara continued. “What normal person does that? But, once you see them together, they appear as though they have known each other for years. Don’t you think, Babbers?” “ he had been listening in and was impressed how much Clara had gotten out of Esther in such as short time. “I can honestly say, Sidney is a changed man from the one who boarded the plane with me to come here Yesterday.” “Changed how?” Esther asked. “He is at peace. His whole energy has moved into a new, slower gear. He smiles – I hadn’t seen him smile in months. Honestly. He looks content, comfortable; as though everything he ever wanted was now a reality. And Clara’s right, they both seem as comfortable in each other’s company as if they were college sweethearts. It’s really quite extraordinary.” 

Esther did not know what to say, for once. You could tell Babbington really cared about his friend’s happiness. She wasn’t about to change her opinion of him. Yet. But he had done something no one else had done, in years. He made her curious. 

Clara watched from her perch and was exceedingly pleased with the tone and direction of the conversation between the two. A few more rounds and she could summon Crowe to come sit with her. She was missing his silly jokes, and the sweet not-so-secret glances he stole of her when he believed she was not looking. A puppy she wanted to snuggle in her arms and take home and train to obey her every command. She was pretty sure he had the potential. 

Esther had at least begun looking in Babbers direction, now, when she dealt the cards or collected his chips. For his part, Clara could not be certain as she had just met him, but she thought he was blushing a little, and he looked almost shy when Esther looked at him. Clara thought it was endearing. And, judging from the growing grin on Esther’s face, so did she. 

As though conjured by her mind, Clara was thrilled when she saw Sidney come up and pat Babbers on the back. Charlotte next to him. They were holding hands, and Charlotte looked like a beautiful, besotted queen, content on the thrown next to her king. They are an incredibly beautiful couple, Clara thought. And, she as not sure what the feeling she had growing inside her, but she believed it was genuine happiness for Charlotte. 

“Babbers. How are you buddy? Is this where you’ve chosen to make your donation to the Wynn tonight?” Sidney asked, as he snaked his left arm around Charlotte’s waist and patted Babbers should with his right. 

“Sidney. I see you have come to watch me lose my shirt. May I introduce you to Esther,taker of said shirt” Babbers offered. Sidney gave her a bow of the head, knowing Croupier’s were not allowed to shake hands with patrons when they were on the clock. Many, many years back, before he was married, the first time, he was here with Babbers and Crowe and talked his way into an ‘athletic’ evening with a blackjack dealer at the Bellagio. He could not remember her name, or frankly, what she looked like. He was sure of one thing. She did not have red hair. It would be just Babbers’ luck to fall for one of his old conquests, Sidney thought. “And this is my wife, Charlotte,” Sidney offered to Esther. Charlotte said, “hello,” and gave a waive, wondering why Clara was sitting so far away. She leaned into Sidney’s side as he wrapped his arm around her waist, smiling at Babber’s blushed cheeks and wondered if Crowe had flown the coop. Clara said hello from where she was sitting, and Charlotte shot her a “what’s going on?” look. 

“Charlotte I am so glad you are here. I was just telling Esther about your wedding.” Esther’s head swiveled to watch Charlotte reluctantly break from Sidney’s hold and make her way over to Clara. “Wait, you two just met last night?” Esther said with maximum incredulity. Charlotte smiled and looked back at Sidney, not Esther when she answered, “We did.” Seeing him blush for the first time, she reached her hand out to him and silently encouraging him to move with her to Clara’s seat. “Well, I can honestly say there is not much that happens in this town that surprises me, but you two look shockingly normal.” Esther looked to Clara and Babbers for confirmation, evidence of a joke, something. Both just shrugged their shoulders as if to say, ‘you’ve got me.’ “That’s what I thought, but our Charlotte here, she has no fear,” Clara said pointedly. Esther dealt the next hand and eyed Clara in her peripheral vision, pretty sure that was a message meant for herself. She noted everyone’s bet and began to deal the second card. The newly married couple were standing comfortably with one another. Neither of them looked inebriated and both were dressed for something other than a night on the town in Vegas. His hand resting on her shoulder naturally. Something almost chaste about it, Esther mused. There were no sloppy public kisses or roving hands. Nope. Not like any other quickie marriage she’d seen in this forsaken town. Again, curious. 

“Well look at that,” Babbers loudly announced, looking down at his winning hand, “Perhaps my luck is changing tonight.” Esther pushed the additional chips toward Babbers withered pile with something of akin to a smile. “Perhaps, Babington,” Esther said softly, turning her head just as she’s caught his eye.   


*** 


	20. Ch. 20 - Celebration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A short chapter to keep it moving.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the kind words and comments. We have 3 or 4 more chapters here and then. By popular demand.........a NYC based season 2 will be a go.

Ch. 20. Celebrate

Sidney took in the whole scene and before him at the Baccarat table and could not help but wonder………what in the hell was going on? He was married to this wonderous creature who was currently smiling broadly while she chatted naturally with Babbers’ croupier. The seat between Clara and Babbers had opened up and Clara encouraged Charlotte to take the seat. Charlotte looked back at Sidney who just nodded and placed his hands on her shoulders. Clara handed Charlotte a stack of chips. “That’s three grand. You can pay me back later.” Charlotte was amused that Clara put such value of these jewel-toned plastic chips. 

“We will make sure you are made whole, Clara,” Sidney said from his position behind Charlotte. She was a shrewd operator, Sidney thought to himself. But he did love the way she had Crowe completely off center. Clara gave him a nod and went back to explaining the game to Charlotte. 

Crowe was the most emotionally unavailable and guarded of all his friends. Sidney knew Crowe was raised by his mother. His dad was a wealthy real estate developer who lived in La Jolla, California. And, married to someone else. Crowe had only spent a few hours with him every year growing up. The man never acknowledged Crowe publicly, but he kept Crowe and his mom well cared for financially. The last time Crowe saw him was when he had graduated business school with Sidney and Babbers. His dad had shown up at their graduation and gave Crowe a pat on the back and said, “well done.” That was it. He left before Crowe could respond and before Crowe’s mom had made her way through the crowd. If Sidney and Babbers were not standing there, Crowe would have wondered if it was some sort of lucid cream or the beginning of his descent into madness. 

Not sure exactly why, Crowe turned down the gig he had secured at Credit Swisse and moved out to LA. He PA’d on a few films and entered USC film school the next fall. Sidney had always wondered if his father’s approval was like a hair shirt that Crowe needed to shed. A garment he was never going to be comfortable wearing. Crowe swore it was a shift solely for the purpose of meeting starlets. But as he demonstrated a true gift behind the camera, his Hollywood career seemed pre-ordained. His student film premiered at Cannes and won the Prix de Jury. It did not guarantee distribution for that film, but every person on the Jury wanted to work with him, or help him find his next project. Three $200 + million dollar blockbusters later, Crowe had moved on to a story-driven ensemble film about a family in crisis after a senseless accident kills the eldest son of a politically powerful Louisiana family. The story follows the whole Landry family as they try to pick up the pieces and move forward as the second born son attempts to take on the mantle of continuing the family’s political dynasty. Despite his utter lack of interest in politics and his budding romance with a young, liberal, and handsome assistant DA who was running to unseat the Landry family Patriarch from the house of representatives. The main character struggles with loyalty and honesty, as his lover insists they go public with their relationship. 

  
An unexpected choice to say the least. But, it was a darling with critics and won him a best director Oscar. After that, Crowe seemed to enjoy his serious “auteur” status and continued to find scripts that seemed completely unfilmable and make them work. Same for his most recent film. 

Sidney and Babbers had wondered when Crowe would be sated by all the starlets, models, and intragram ‘models’ and want to have a relationship that lasted longer than a night or two. And while, it was only night to for Clara, Sidney had a feeling Crowe was at least interested enough to add to that tally.   
  
Babber’s luck continued to improve, the table emptied out and Clara motioned for Crowe to join them in the now empty seat on the other side of her. When Babbers saw Crowe sidle up to the table, he worried all the progress he had made would be wiped out once Crowe opened his mouth. It was close to 2 am, and Babbers could not help but be hopeful. 

As the other guests left the Bacarrat table and every seat was filled by the Babbers brigade. Esther had a conversation going with Clara and Charlotte, regaling the two with tales from the Vegas gambling crypt. Saudi oil men offering her $500,000 in chips to go upstairs to their suite; a Hollywood ‘hunk’ who had a serious gambling problem and a penchant for threesomes. Charlotte was truly aghast. She did not consider herself sheltered, but the money and self-destruction seemed other-level to anything she had seen or heard in the new York art scene; itself a bastion of avarice, money, sex and drugs. With the girl-squad connection established, albeit tenuously, Clara decided to close the deal. 

“Well, since we are toasting Charlotte and Sidney tonight, we should figure out where it is going to be. “ 

Neither of them missed a beat and went along with Clara’s plan, knowing it was devised to help Babbers spend time with Esther outside the Casino. "This is thoughtful of you," Charlotte said to Babbers. Clara responded for him, "Don't think you are going to get away without telling us all what made you two lose your minds! We plan on plying you with drink until the truth flows." 

“When do you get off work, Esther,” asked Clara? Esther eyed her with renewed skepticism. “I cannot make it,” she responded a bit too quickly. Charlotte spoke up, “how else are you going to hear the story about how we met? 

“You could tell me now and put me out of my misery,” Esther spat. Why was she so rude? This woman was lovely and clearly trying to help this man who had done nothing to piss her off or set off her ‘douche’ radar. Yet. “I am sorry, I am just tired, as you can see. I will be in no shape to socialize at 4 am,” She added. 

“4 am. Excellent! Now Babbers, ask Sam where in this godforsaken hotel we can toast the happy couple,” came a voice from the far and up till now silent corner of the table. “We’ll have some breakfast ready for you, too, Esther. I can’t imagine you’ve eaten anything in a while.” Pretty much everyone turned to find Crowe attempting to close the deal. Seeing all eyes on him, Crowe announced to the group, “what? I can’t help?” He started feeling self-conscious and pissed he got caught up in the moment. Clara was, uncharacteristically, silent. She just smiled at him and gave him a wink. 

In fact, everyone was silent. Sidney was the first to speak, “Esther. Ms. Denham. If you haven’t noticed, it is all-hand-on-deck here to help our friend get a date with you. I can vouch that Babbers is a good man. He works hard, loves his mom – but not too much, treats his friends like family, and does not go around pursuing women. Everyone here who knows him is at this table because of the rarity of this situation. Now, if you would please join us for a drink and some breakfast I promise, at the very least, you will come out no worse from the experience. You may even enjoy yourself. Consider it your wedding gift to me and my wife?” 

Charlotte was looking up at Sidney, smiling, and everyone else was staring at Esther, waiting for her response. No one spoke for what felt like several minutes. But when Sam Sidaway came over and stood next to Babbers chair, “Mr. Babington, I have a location for your impromptu soiree,” everyone saw a smile spread across Esther’s face. “You, too, Sam? Phew. I am outnumbered and for once, outplayed.” 

Babbers eyes widened, “You…..you….accept?” he could not hide his shock. “I suppose. It does not seem like I will get a moments peace for the rest of my shift if I don’t agree, and now apparently, my job is on the line. So, yes, I will join you.” Esther and Babbers locked eyes briefly, before she wiped the paddle across the table to begin the next round with a smile that could be categorized as amused. 

“OK, well I am going to excuse myself from this Hallmark Channel Very Vegas Christmas Special, before my career beings to take a turn,” announced Crowe. “Will you be joining me, Clara?” It was now time for the whole table to stare at Crowe, as Clara hopped off her stool, and linked one arm around Crowe’s while the other carried her winnings. “Let’s cash me out. I think I have enough here for a “Popeye’s” franchise and a pair of Chanel boots.” “Text Crowe with the details,” she called out over her shoulder. Crowe tried to grab her tray of chips, reminding her, “Shall we recall you were gambling with my money.” 


	21. Esther's Long Con

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is all Esther. I admittedly have given her short shrift in this story. I attempt to make it up to her here. Well, sort of. Not sure she would chose this storyline if given a chance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I believe this is the penultimate chapter. (I have written in before work today, so anticipate some serious grammar faux pas.) I will attempt to wrap this all up one way or another with the next chapter. All I can say is, what fun. All of your comments and kudos have been surprising, encouraging, and wonderful.

Ch. 21. – Esther’s Long Con

Shit. Shit Shit. Thought Esther as she started to think about what she had agreed to. She had gotten caught up in the moment and agreed despite her better judgment. The guy, who by all accounts seems to not be a creep, even had his friends come to help him out. Who does that? Actually, what she really meant was, who has friends like that? Esther hadn’t really had anyone she called a friend since…….since she and Edward ran off to Vegas from no-place-you-ever-heard-of-Georgia. Esther was only 18 when Edward convinced her to run away with him. He painted a picture of a glamourous life in California, living at the beach while Edward made it as an Actor. He promised marriage, fame, fortune, and love. And Esther was hooked. 

That was six years ago. They got as far as Vegas and never left. Edward began gambling and drinking and coming home in the early morning reeking of cheap perfume and booze. He began making a name for himself at several casinos on the strip, and not in a good way. He was banned from several for counting cards, yet despite this skill, he had run up a huge debt with a loan-shark that had them on the run. From shitty motel to desert campsites, and finally, the trailer park where Esther paid the bills and Edward plotted small-stakes con jobs in-between drinking all day and romancing all the woman at the trailer park while Esther was out working. 

It was Edward who encouraged her to become a card dealer and find work at one of the Casinos. The more high-end the better. Edward knew this was where he could find his white whale. A score so big he would could get out of the sad sack trailer park. 

Esther was in love but getting tired of his shit more and more every day. Once she landed a job at the Wynn, she began to plot her escape. She had set up a separate bank account and had the Wynn deposit 5% of her net paycheck into it and the rest into her shared account with Edward. There were no check stubs to verify, since it was all done by direct deposit and Edward could not be bothered learning how to log on to ADP to see that all of her earnings arrived in their account. He just checked the account on pay day every two weeks to see that the deposit had come through and was never the wiser that Esther was skimming off the top. 

She received generous tips, too. Shrewd, she knew not to get greedy. She handed over the bulk of these to Edward so he would not be suspicious. More frequently than you would think, a big fish would tip her with a five-grand chip. When that happened, she kept all but $1,000 and brought that home to Edward. He was so small time he thought Esther had hit the jackpot those nights. What a fool, Esther thought. But, she realized that made her an even bigger fool and shook her faith in her escape plans often. How could she survive on her own if she could not even escape a drunken gambling addict? 

Now that she was working at the Wynn, Esther had her marching orders from Edward, too. Zero in on drunk conventioneers in town for trade shows, foreign businessmen who the casino comped, and lonely rich women on their post-divorce, let-loose casual-sex tour. Esther would seduce them, and Edward would fleece them with whatever information Esther was able to glean from her time spent “keeping them company,” as Edward called it. Their largest mark to date was a Malaysian textile manufacturer, Mr. Tam, in town for MAGIC, the fashion trade show held in Vegas every year. Esther swore, after enduring several strip club visits and one particularly heinous night in Mr. Tam’s hotel room hot tub, that she would no longer partake in this feeble scheme of Edwards. She swore Edward enjoyed her humiliation and kept her involved with the profligate and sweaty Mr. Tam longer than necessary just to see how far he could make her degrade herself in service of his get-rich-quick scam. Which, despite Edward’s tales hacking bank accounts and duplicating credit cards and other cool tricks he likely saw watching Ocean’s 11,12, and 13, they never yielded much in the way of a payday. 

As far as Edward knew, she had been running a cold streak these past several months, unable to spark the interest of any high-rollers or drunken amateurs. In fact, she had quit the game. having saved up over $50,000 she turned out to be better at the long con than Edward. But, key to the long con was knowing when to split. And knew she was going to need to cut and run soon before Edward began questioning her or came up with another ways to pimp her out. 

That was why she had not told Edward about Babington yet. At least, that’s what she told herself. After he spent that whole of her shift last night losing at Baccarat just to keep talking to her, she was curious. She googled him after her shift and discovered that indeed, this was Edward’s proverbial white whale.

Problem was, this Babington guy didn’t seem like an asshole. Even in his persistence he was respectful and almost charming. She had tried to dissuade him, ensure his disinterest. But that seemed to only fan the flames of his ardor. And, if she was being honest, the fact that all of his friends came to help him get a date was endearing. 

But now, she realized she was going to pay for coming home later than usual and prayed that Edward would be fast asleep. The last thing she needed now that she was so close was Edward getting suspicious and shortening her leash even more than it was now. She’d have one quick drink. Try and be cordial and excuse herself. 

True to his word, Babbers found his way back to her table a few minutes before 4 am. He would escort her to the festivities. She quickly went to the back of the house to change, grab her purse and leave that night’s tips in her locker. When she walked back out, Babbers was there with a broad smile and his arm held out regency-era style for her to grab on to. 

+++

Crowe definitely approved of Sam’s solution for their last-minute request. At the top of the Wynn, where the Executive offices were, was a huge, glass enclosed atrium, air conditioned, and filled with small lights that looked like a sky full of stars. There were dark sofas and chairs in small conversation groupings areas all around the floor to ceiling windows. Sam had set a table in the center of the space with an ice-filled urn holding several bottles of champagne, and an elaborate array of breakfast items from warm croissant and fresh fruit to soft-boiled eggs with Caviar. Plus, carafes of any kind of fruit juice procurable – passion fruit, pineapple, pear, mango. Crowe poured passion fruit juice into a champagne flute and as he topped it with champagne, Clara walked in, grabbled out from his hand and helped herself. “Passion fruit! This is so good, Crowe, thank you,” she gave him a wink and walked over to look out the windows out onto the strip. Crowe came up behind her with another glass he had poured for himself. They didn’t say anything as they looked out over the strip and out into the dark black desert. Dawn not yet peaking over the horizon. 

“How are we the first to arrive?” Clara declared more than wondered. “I was the first to arrive,” Crowe corrected her, “you ran off to do god knows what.” 

“I needed to pack my bags so we could leave straight from your place tomorrow. Babbers said the plane leaves at 3 pm. We might even be able to get a few hours of sleep in before then.”

“Um, how do you know when the flight leaves,” Crowe asked. More curious than annoyed, but definitely also annoyed.

“You don’t think I am flying back commercial all by myself, while Charlotte goes home with her husband on a private jet? I gave Babbers my social while we were playing Baccarat. He said I could take a turn on the jump seat in the cockpit.”

Crowe could see the logic in her thinking. How depressing sitting in some middle seat in coach next to a most-likely hungover bridesmaid knowing your friend is eating sushi from Nobu and reclining in a lie-flat chair with a Hermes blanket wrapped around her. His collar started to feel tight, nonetheless as he took a deep breath and drank his entire glass of Champagne and juice. He went back for a refill and this time skipped the juice. Just as he was mustering up the courage to explain to Clara that this had been an unexpectedly delightful weekend, but that all good things must come to an end, Babbers walked in with his quarry; on his arm, no less.

Crowe felt the collar tighten further. 

“Esther! You came. What a delightful surprise.” Clara was beaming, taking pride in her efforts. She was convinced she played a large roll in getting Esther here. Always celebrate the small wins, she thought to herself. 

“Where is the couple of the hour” Babbers asked everyone and no one in particular? 

Clara had moved to the breakfast buffet and was selecting the largest slice of mango from the plate. “Charlotte said something about topiaries. I wasn’t listening. She will be here. That girl will tell you no to your face if she doesn’t plan on doing something. She has no appreciation for letting one down easy.”

Babbers poured Esther a glass of champagne and the four of them took seats by the window. “I have never been up this far in the building,” Esther offered, trying to preempt awkward silence. “This is the executive floor, restricted access to anyone on the floor. The views are something, though, huh,?” She added almost absent-mindedly. She realized in that moment that it was not to her taste. It had never dawned on her that she didn’t like Las Vegas. Or the Desert. There were still so many places she wanted to explore, as she looked out over the strip, she thought about her plans to travel up the California coastline, stopping and visiting towns until she found the one she liked the best. Where she would begin her new life. 

Babbers interrupted her silent reflection and asked her where she was from. Esther was slow in responding. “uh….well Georgia, actually. But I have not been there in six years,” she told him. “Wow. I guess your family comes to visit you here. They must think you are living the life.” Babbers said without the slightest irony. People with happy childhoods did that sort of thing, Esther thought. Spoke without irony or contempt about family matters. This man likely still talks to his mother and father weekly, she thought.

“And where are you from, George Babington?” trying desperately to move the conversation off of her. “I am from England.” Esther’s eyes widened. “I know, no accent. I have been here since I was 13. My parents sent me for schooling in Massachusetts and I never left. I love the states. That’s where I met Crowe here, and Parker, the newlywed,” he said with a shake of his head. “Wild. Crowe isn’t it wild that Parker is married. Again. We brought him here to celebrate his divorce from the most-awful-woman-in-the-world. No exaggeration.” “None,” Crowe added, “none at all.” 

Esther was surprised. She sort-of wished Babbers still had his English accent, she thought he must sound cute. And here she thought she had pegged him so well. And googled sufficiently. But, no. Clearly there was more to this man than his last start-up. 

Clara’s glass was empty, and she pulled Crow up with her to go fill it up. “Let’s give them a few minutes. He may actually be getting somewhere.” 

“Where exactly could he be getting,” thought Crowe? “We leave in less than 12 hours. How much can he accomplish in that time,” he asked Clara. Sincerely wanting an answer. 

Clara eyed him and her mouth curled up into a smirk. The cutest one Crowe had ever seen. “That’s enough time. Hell, Charlotte and Sidney got married in less time. Plus, I know the G6 seats 14. Babbers could invite her home to New York.” They both look over to see Babbers listening intently to something Esther was saying. 

“What are we looking at,” asked Sidney, appearing without warning behind them, his wife’s hand wrapped tightly in his. 

“We were just wondering how much Babbers could accomplish given the same amount of time it took you to get this lovely woman to marry you,” Crowe answered. Sidney was momentarily thrown by his seeming sincerity. 

Charlotte beamed and moved to tuck herself in, under Sidney’s arm and rest her hand around his waist. “I am not sure lightening can strike three times in the same desert town in one weekend,” she offered. 

“Three times?” Crowe seemed very confused. 

“Well, yeah. Sidney and me. You and Clara. All three of you cannot have come to Vegas and found the loves of your life?” Charlotte wrapped her other arm around the front of her husband’s waist and squeezed. 

“Charlotte, I think you may cause a Grande Mal seizure in poor Crowe here,“ Clara responded. Mock concern dripping from her words. “Crowe has not entirely caught up with today’s programing. Let’s give him some time.”

They mockery halted as they heard Esther laugh. Loud. “hahah. Pardon me. I am sorry. You’re a lord? An honest to goodness English Lord of the manor? A peer of the realm!” Esther could not believe it. This was a scam being played on her, she thought briefly before dismissing that possibility. 

“That’s exactly why my parents sent me here. They didn’t want me growing up to be one of those pretentious pricks who have no idea what hard work is and wait till they inherent their families land and home from their parents.” 

Esther was truly in shock. An English lord, who was not ugly, was a genius entrepreneur and incredibly rich? “What’s wrong with you? What the actual fuck is wrong with you?” Esther had to get out. It was well past 5 am and the sun was rising. She still had a 40-minute drive home and needed to think of what she was going to tell Edward. She stood up. Babbers was thoroughly confused. 

“I don’t get your meaning?”

What is wrong with you that you spent an entire weekend and well over 50k to chat me up? Is this some high stakes chess game with human pieces? You trying to show your friends just how low you can go on a slumming it weekend in Vegas?”

Esther could hear for herself she was yelling and worse than that she didn’t’ exactly know why. Babbers was crest fallen. He looked hurt and unsure of himself. She could see the genuine emotion in his eyes. Why was she yelling at him? She had no idea how to interact with a genuine person and knew she needed to leave before she made it worse. “I must leave. I have to get home.” She said hello and goodbye to Charlotte and Sidney and thanked all of them for their kindness in including her in their celebration. Everyone was feeling terrible for Babbers and gave their polite goodbyes. Babbers was already at the elevator by the time Esther turned to walk towards it. He was not sure why she was running, but he felt an overwhelming sadness and fear from her. He did not want her to push him away because she was scared. He was holding the elevator door open for her as she walked up. “Let me escort you to your car?” She didn’t say a thing, just looked at him as tears began to well-up in her eyes. 

The ride down in the elevator was excruciatingly slow. Esther was looking up at the ceiling, willing the tears back into her head and hoping gravity would help in the process. Babbers could see she was struggling with a lot more than just whether she wanted to get to know him. He figured he had nothing left to lose as it was clear he would be saying goodbye to her any minute. 

“I do hope I haven’t offended you. It was never my intent. I only wanted to get to know you and, like I said, I am intrigued by what is difficult.”

Esther blinked several times and just stared at him. “You have laid an elaborate trap for your prey,” she began, as if building momentum for her final rhetorical slap in Babber’s face. Babbers looked as though he was trying to solve an equation in his head. Then, his posture straightened, and he smiled as though the answer was finally clear to him. He zeroed in on her eyes, as thought she would hear him better if she was looking straight at him.

“I don’t know whose ‘prey’ you have been in the past, but I do not wish to capture or control you. If I can be perfectly honest, I am an exceedingly successful man, and an exceedingly bored one. I know I am a lucky man, and I appear to have all the trappings of a happy life. But, as I get older I think that image is something of a pretense. Created by publicists and magazines. I have not wanted to get to know someone or let them get to know me for a long time. Maybe forever. I think you are extraordinary. I am not a danger to you. I am not toying with you. I am drawn to you. And I my thoughts are consumed with you; I cannot fathom you out. But I can promise you I would like to try.” He had Esther’s full attention now. She let one of those tears make its way out of her eye and down her cheek. 

Babbers continued, “ I do not know who has hurt you in the past, or what it is you have been put through. But I do not wish to make you a victim in any plot or game. I merely want to be by your side, to get to know you, and, hopefully,…..and make you happy.”

The silence could have been awkward, if it had not been interrupted with the elevator doors opening, and a security guard greeting them. “Mr. Babington, Sam said there was something I could help you with?” Esther just looked at Babbers and rolled her eyes. “Does everyone do as you say, or do they just anticipate your every need.” 

Babbers laughed as he saw the grin on Esther’s face and was pretty sure she was teasing him now. “Can I help it if people like me. Well, most people,” he said, with a subtle and flirtatious little wink. Turning to the guard in his crisp, well-tailored uniform, “I’d like to escort Ms. Denham to her car. Can you tell us the best way to get there?”

“Employees park in a satellite lot, I can have a car brought around to bring her there?” Babbers nodded and the guard grabbed his walkie-talkie and requested a car to the north tower, executive entrance. They followed him as he led them to the small, elegant lobby that served as the entrance to the corporate offices.

“You know, George. People rarely surprise me.” Esther turned to look at him and she wrapped one arm around her waist and the other clinging to the handle of her purse. 

“Not sure if that is a good thing or not. But I suppose that’s better than disappointing you,” he said, turning to give her a little grin. Esther didn’t smile back. She just looked at him with a solemn expression. 

A black Escalade pulled up right outside the glass doors and Esther turned her entire body to face Babbers and held out her hand. “thank you for a most interesting 48 hours, George Babington. I doubt I will forget this one any time soon.”

“Oh no. I am taking you to your car. After all, I am a gentleman.” Turning to the guard, “He can drop me back off here, right?” The guard nodded, and Babbers opening the lobby door for Esther and followed her to the waiting car. Stopping before she got in, she turned to him, “You don’t have to do this, you, know. And if you think there is a chance you’ll score with me in the back seat of the car, I am here to ruin the suspense. Not going to happen.” 

Babington laughed. The fact had not been his intent. But now he was thinking about it and it warmed his whole body from the inside. “I would think not.”

The driver was still waiting with the back door open for them and Esther realized she was not going to shake him until the last possible minute. Getting into the seat Esther pulled out her phone to check the time. It was close to 6 am and the sun was just clearing the far away mountain range on its trip across the sky. “Shit,” she said out loud as she saw 3 missed calls from Edward. She checked her texts and same about 5 messages from him. Babbers could not but look over at her screen as her look became more and more fearful. She was reading a message and Babbers could make out a line in all caps that read, “WHERE ARE YOU YOU FUCKING WHORE.” 

He sighed. Loudly. His stomach twisted as he got a quick snapshot into what must be a common part of her life. And one of the reasons for her distrust. “He seems angry. Husband?” he asked, hoping he did not sound as disappointed as he was feeling. 

Esther looked over at him and her eyes filled with tears. “No. A mistake from my youth,” she said. The look of worry and fear aged her, and Babbers imagined all the things she had seen and been subject to. His anger began to get the best of him. “You cannot go home to this person. I don’t care who he is. No one should speak to a woman like that.” Esther’s tears were now plentiful, and she made no effort to fight them as they streamed down her face. 

“Funny, Edward says I don’t deserve anyone to be nice to me.”

Babbers grabbed her hand and waited until she turned to look at him. “You cannot go back. At least not alone. Let me come with you. Or have one of the girls…women.. go. I will call them. There is no excuse for his behavior.” Esther’s tears turn to sobs. She could not speak, she just wept. Babbers thought she must be scared to death. Her tears a sign of fear.

But what Esther was feeling was far more complex than that. She could not understand why anyone would be so kind to her. Did this person she just met really care for her and ger wellbeing. Or was this his in. His opportunity to exploit her vulnerability. Certainly, that would be Edward’s take. 

The car turned left slowly, and a security guard waived at the driver and opened the gate to the fenced in parking lot. It was huge. Like a long-term parking lot at an airport. Esther pulled her hand from Babbers hand and rummaged around her purse, searching for her keys. 

“Miss Denham, what section are you assigned to?” the driver asked courteously. 

“5H, red, thank you.”

“I am serious, Esther. I cannot allow you to go back there. Can I at least follow you? This gentleman and I will escort you home and ensure you are not in harm’s way.”

Romance or not, Babbers was not going to let any woman head into such a noxious, and probably dangerous, situation alone.

“I am imploring you to accept my help. I say this as a friend. Or even just a decent man. I will not allow you to subject yourself to such treatment. You must have a friend we can drop you at, or your family? Please, let me help you.” Babbers at this point was begging. He absolutely could not just go back and share drinks with his friends and then hop on a plane and leave her in this situation.

Esther held her key in her hand, and in between attempting deep breaths to calm her outburst, she whispered, “I have no one but Edward.” 

As though timed perfectly, her line synced with the car coming to a stop, and Esther opened her door. Crowe would call it too cliched, but it certainly had the emotional impact any good romantic drama wanted to invoke in its viewers.

“Good-bye George Babington. You might be the kindest man I will ever meet." 

With that Esther slipped out of the car and headed to Edward’s banged up, white Toyota Supra. Esther thought about how cool she thought that car was when she was 18, sitting around with her friends outside the high school waiting for Edward to pick her up. What a fool, she thought. And so much time wasted. 


	22. Wheels Up!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> THE LAST CHAPTER --- Babbers to the rescue; Crowe to the Vodka; and Sidney to his new wife and new life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well - I had a blast with this. You guys were so supportive and hilarious. Thank you for each and every comment and kudos.

Ch. 22. Wheels Up

As Babbers emerged from the elevator back up at the “celebration” for Sidney and Charlotte, he had his phone to his ear and was talking quickly with someone. Yes, I need 2 cars; one for me and a second with 2 armed security guards. This IS casino business. One of your employees is in a life-threatening situation. “ Quiet, he listened intently to what the other person was saying. “Sam, thank you. Text me the info from her file and make sure the driver knows how to get there.” With that Babbers hung up the phone and addressed his assembled friends, who had all taken seat by the wall of windows and were clearly enjoying the copious amount of champagne Sam had provided. “ OK. Change of plans. We are leaving a bit sooner. Can you all go and pack and head to the plane; We leave in two hours. I have already secured a take-off slot. Any questions, call Monica in my office. She is on it.”

Crowe looked serious for a change, asking “Babbers are you alright, man? There is no shame in failing. Just because you struck out with a lady does not mean you need to race off as though you have been vanquished by your enemy.”

“Fuck you, Crowe.”

Sidney was actually concerned. Charlotte cuddled up next to him with her head on his chest, and her arm on his knee. Despite his anxiety, Babbers could not help but see the comfort and ease they had with each other. “What can I do to help” Sidney asked. Of course, Sidney’s first instinct is to help, Babbers thought, both were true to form, regardless of how drunk they were. 

“Thanks, Sidney. I just need everyone on board in two hours. I might be a few minutes late, but we will be wheels up when I get there.”

Sidney and Charlotte nodded. “Do you need us to pack up your room for you,” asked Charlotte. Babbers was already headed back to the elevator and over his should responded “Monica already has the hotel taking care of it. It will be loaded on to the plane before we take off. Thanks.” And with that the doors opened and Babbers was gone. 

They all had baffled if not alcohol-dulled expressions on their face. “If he is going to Pretty Woman her, I am going to wet myself,” Clara finally said, breaking the silence. 

Charlotte and Sidney had quizzical expressions, but Crowe, he smirked having just thought the exact same thing but was not willing to share it aloud. 

Charlotte clearly did not get the reference. 

“You know, knight in shining armor shows up in the last 10 minutes of the movie to whisk the princess away to live happily ever after?” Crowe now turned to her with a full-blown smile and an amused look. “I spent a lot of time on planes in my previous career. I have seen everything from the 1990s. Plus, gotta love Julia Roberts,” Clara said without a hint of shame.

“Let’s get cracking. I have a feeling we better do as Babbers says. He seemed to have more on his mind than wooing the princess.” Sidney’s mind was racing. His gut told him something was seriously wrong. As Charlotte got up and pulled him from the sofa, Crowe and Clara followed suit and headed to the elevator. Clara grabbed 2 muffins off the table as she walked out and wrapped them in a napkin. Crowe had that same amused look on his face. “These are both for me,” Clara made clear. 

+++

Esther’s hands were shaking even as she gripped the steering wheel. As she drove down the highway. She had not responded to any of his calls, but sent a text back saying, “Sam kept me late. Heading home now.” It had the benefit of being almost true. But she knew it would not placate him. She should have sent him a text and lied in advance. His interrogations are milder when he has advance warning that I will be later than one after my shift ends. And, since she was getting close to her escape, she had not wanted to do anything to trigger Edward’s suffocating control tactics. Early on in their time in Vegas, when the LA fantasy still lived, Edward was pissed that Esther was flirted with at a bar, and he insisted on driving her to and from work every day for six-months. That she worked the overnight shift at the Wynn was a blessing. Chaperoning her interfered with his most productive conning and mating hours. 

But she had not heard him this angry in a long time. Although she knew she kept no trace of her exit plan – no banks statements, no W-2s – all of that went to a PO Box and she kept all other paperwork in her locker at work – she was irrationally worrying that he had somehow found out. As she got off the highway at her usual exit, her phone rang again. It was Edward. This time, she picked up. Better to let him blow off some steam when she was not within arm’s length.   
“Edward, I just turned off the highway.”   
“Whose cock were you sucking, you fucking whore.”   
“Ugh. Edward, please. Sam had a meeting for all overnight dealers. We discussed changes to our break schedule and our upcoming drug tests. So much for random. Relax.”   
“Relax? Who the fuck are you? Relax. I tell you what to do, not the other way around. Understood.”   
“Yes, Edward.”   
“How much longer till you are home?”   
“I am at the light, will be there in 2 minutes.”  
“Good. I am sorry baby. Sometimes you just make me worry. I think you don’t love me anymore. You know I love you, right?” 

Esther’s stomach curdled. He was drunk. He only ever said he loved her when he was drunk and alone. Feeling sorry for himself. This used to do the trick and have her running back into his arms. But now, she was over it. She knew how this one went. He gets drunk, gets depressed, can’t find someone to sleep with, makes nice with her, and has sex with her. Then he sleeps off his hangover and wakes up even more a jackass than the night before. 

She pulls up and parks behind the trailer. Still anxious, with a spinning and jostling cyclone of fear gnawing away in her stomach. She leaves the keys in the car for some reason. In case there is a need for a quick getaway. 

As she walked through the door, Edward was lying on the sofa with an almost finished bottle of Absolut cradled in his arm like a new kitten. 

“You really at a work meeting?”  
Esther decided annoyed indifference was the right posture to take in this exchange. So, she walked to the refrigerator and grabbed a bottle of seltzer water and rolled her eyes.   
“Yes, Edward. We had a staff meeting. Every three months or so.”  
“Why didn’t you call me before it started; tell me you were going to be running late. Or a text? Slip your mind?” Edward asked, getting up from the sofa now, taking a sip from the bottle and placing it down on the coffee table. Esther just stared at him. She thought it better not to interrupt him. He clearly was not finished building his paranoid argument for her betrayal.  
“Huh? A simple text would have saved me considerable worry, Esther” he said, walking over to her and taking the seltzer bottle from her hand. 

Without warning, he grabbed both her arms just below the shoulder, and shook her; his grip only getting tighter. “Huh? See, I don’t think you had a meeting. At least not a work one. I can smell the wine on your breath, you whore. Who did you meet up with? Are you running a con without me? Trying to cut out the mastermind?”

Esther was in great discomfort from Edwards hold, but still scoffed at his greed and avarice. And complete lack of regard for her. Would it be so implausible that someone could be interested in her? Wasn’t he always worrying about me cheating, she thought? 

“Esther. ANSWER ME. Where the fuck were you?” Edward was irate.

Esther tried to pull her arms out of his grip. Maybe he is drunk enough that I could overpower him, she thinks. If I could get closer to the door…… Still trying to extricate herself from his hold, Edward suddenly grabs her tighter, picks her up, her feet dangling a few inches above the floor, and throws her across the trailer. Esther’s entire body slams against the black, particle board shelving unit she bought at Wal-Mart and assembled herself when they first moved into this “temporary” hiding place. Her hip meets the top of the shelve that simultaneously collapses at its joints and digs sharply into Esther’s hip. Her hips checked by the shelves, her head and torso continue to make contact with the paper-thin but surprisingly unforgiving wall. Her forehead catching the corner molding of the 8x11 window covered with faux-wood blinds. Righting herself, Esther’s hand immediately inspects her left temple, which is bleeding. 

Unsatisfied with her injuries, Edward crosses the floor of the single-wide quickly to grab her again, as Esther moves toward the door, making it as far as the patch of sun on the floor coming through the storm door window, the door suddenly opens and two arms wrap around her from behind. Esther is pulled outside and down the few steps to the front door. Before she can grasp exactly what is going on, two large men dressed like security guards from the Wynn rush through the door and she hears a crash and then a thump. While she has never heard the sound before, she knows it was Edward’s body hitting the floor. 

And the arms around her. Before turning around, she knows whose they are Babington.   
As tears now pour from her eyes unconfined, the arms turn her around, not letting go of her. Her head rests on his shoulder as he squeezes her close. 

“You just couldn’t wait to get your hands on me, huh?” Esther says with an unconvincing laugh. Immediately, Babbers moves a step away, arms still surrounding her, trying to comfort her and respect her boundaries at the same time. The two of them look at each other without saying a word. Esther’s eyes reveal her utter humiliation, shame and gratitude simultaneously. Babbers reveal something Esther can’t quit identify. 

“Well, Babington, now you know the truth, are you not disgusted by me?”

“No. Not at all.” He answers as he refuses to break eye contact with her. What is that look he is giving me, Esther wonders? She has never seen a man look at her like this. In that moment, she does not know what Babington wants from her, nor what to say. 

“I don’t know what has transpired here, but I cannot leave you here. Do you have your license?”

“Are you carding me, Babington?” Babington smiles and shakes his head. “No. But I want you to leave now. All you need to bring with you is your license.” He raises his hand to her temple, gently wiping at the drip of blood beginning to dry on the side of her face. 

The two security guards are coming down the steps from the trailer and walk over to where Babington had placed Esther on the ground, a short distance from the front door. “Mr. Babington. The suspect is out cold. I suggest we leave him undisturbed and get Ms. Denham to a safe location.”

“Chester can you grab Ms. Denham’s purse from inside? I will make sure she is safe.”

“Where are you taking me? I don’t need your charity. Or, a knight in shining armor. I can handle this.” Esther’s shame replaced with righteous indignation at what she paints as his sexist rescue scenario.

“I know you can. I am impressed you have handled it this far all on your own. But why should you? Allow someone to help. I have no agenda other than to see you safe and give you cause to smile. If you will allow me.”

“Why, Babington. What is it you want in return? I don’t wish to be your property.”

“Good. Because I have no wish to own you. But I do want you safe. And away from this place and that man.” Their eyes remain glued to one another as Esther tried to make out the look in his eyes…..It was one she had no experience with. It seemed guileless…..honest….wholly without pretense?

“Esther, please allow me to help. There are not strings attached. Obviously, I like you. But I expect no award or undying devotion from you. Once we have you away from here and safe, you are free to go anywhere you want. I will make sure you arrive safely back with your family, or a girlfriend. Wherever you want to go. But I do hope, wherever that is, it is not back here.”

Babington takes the purse Chester is exiting the trailer within his hand. “Now, shall we go?”

+++

Clara seemed unfazed by the understated opulence of the private plane. She stepped out of the SUV and climbed the stairs of the G6 like a natural. Greeting the flight attendant they quickly took seats on the left side of the plane, facing forward, in the first coupling of seats in the plane. Crowe was amused by her adaptability. He moved a bit further into the cabin to inspect the sushi from Nobu on the sideboard. “You are sitting in Parker’s seat. No one sits in that seat when Parker is flying.”

“Oh, something tells me Parker will be happy to sit anywhere he can have Charlotte beside him. The more secluded the better.” 

Crowe agreed. He was preoccupied with the physical sensation he had in his chest. It was warm, his heart was pounding, but his stomach was calm, and his hands were not shaking. He could get used to this, he thought. Almost 48 hours, and she has yet to trigger him. And she loves to eat, he thinks. He is not as insane as Parker and had no interest in getting married. Today. But, he might even go so far as to give her his cell number. Or let her move in. What? He was getting carried away with himself. He had to get out of Vegas. It must be this place that has all of us out of our minds, he thinks. 

“What are you chewing on inside that beautiful mind of yours, Crowe?”

Coaxed from his vivid anxiety dream, he simply smiled and after a long pause said, “me. I am thinking about me.”

+++

Charlotte and Sidney were separately wishing they could have had the day to themselves – even just a few hours in bed. To be close. And alone. Charlotte had been right about helping Babington. He was happy that she was willing to help even though it meant they spent the rest of their evening in the casino. Sidney knew that this woman was meant to be his future. But seeing an example of her kindness and thoughtfulness only affirmed this belief. He knew this was bound to happen over the coming weeks and months as they got to know each other and begin to share their lives with one another. For the first time in years, Sidney was optimistic about his personal future. Optimism, Sidney realized, is something he has not felt in years. As he took a deep breath he realized his chest felt open and light, unrestricted. Another extraordinary physical sensation Charlotte gave him. He tightened his embrace of her as they walked through the Lobby of the Four Seasons up to his room. 

She didn’t know how, but she knew she knew exactly what he was thinking. “I’m glad we were there for Babbers. It was a fun night. You have some good friends.” Sidney looked down at her thoughtfully. “I’m glad we went, too. And, grateful to you as you were the one who insisted we go.” Charlotte took both her arms and gave his waist a quick squeeze. “We have the rest of our lives to lie in bed together.” Charlotte noted. “And I am very much looking forward to beginning the rest of that life immediate upon arrival in New York,” Charlotte said looking up at her husband with a mischievous grin and love in her eyes. 

“mmmmm. Me too,” he said as he placed a chaste kiss on the top of her head. They were able to pack quickly and check-out online to greet their waiting car 20 minutes later. “is that McCarren airport, Mr. Parker, the driver asked while holding the door open for Charlotte and Sidney.

“Yes, please. Thank you.” They snuggled together in the back seat for the short drive to Babbers plane. As they did, Charlotte and Sidney finally got around to wondering what was going on with Babbers. 

“Is Babbers really going to chase after her? She seemed….I don’t know. Uncomfortable, is the only way I can put it.” Clearly Charlotte was still searching for a more precise word as she settled her head on Sidney’s shoulder.

“Yeah. It didn’t seem like she was upset with him, though. Something else was going on. As she left, I thought she looked….almost, terrified.” Sidney was still thinking about it. “Babbers is the man you want next to you in the bunker, so if he did go after her, he’s got it all under control. I am sure of that.” 

“hhmm. Well I bet Babbers would say the same about you,” Charlotte noted. Seriously. And a little flirtatiously. 

Sidney moved his hand to cup her chin and tilt her face upward towards his. “I am always in your bunker. I hope you know that. I will never not be there for you.” 

Charlotte swallowed hard and felt the sting of tear forming behind her eyes. She gazed at this man. Her husband. Placing her hand on his cheek, she looked adoringly at Sidney. “I will never not be there for you,” She repeated back to him. 

The taste of his lips as she reached up to kiss him was addicting and it triggered that deep warm feeling inside her. She moved quickly to straddle his lap as she deepened the intensity of the kiss and coaxed his lips to part so she could have his tongue. He wrapped his hands around her and pressed her body against his while his tongue followed her lead as they danced together to a staccato beat. Charlotte ran her fingers through Sidney’s closely cut curls and purred as she moved her hips to feel Sidney just the way she wanted to.

“Yes, Tail number N16X42,” the driver shouted out the window to the gate attendant at the private services entrance at the airport. As the gate lifted for them to proceed, Charlotte gathered herself and sat back down beside Sidney, settling back in on his shoulder with her hand pressed firmly over his heart. Sidney rubbed her shoulder and whispered, “just a few more hours beautiful.”

Charlotte had never flown on a private jet before, and quite frankly, felt a little out of her depth. The car pulled up right next to the stairs of the plane. She could not help but think how civilized it all was. Sidney held her hand as he escorted her to the steps and stood behind her and held her by the lower back as she climbed up the stairs. The plane was the most luxurious thing she had ever seen. Burled wood and tan leather everywhere. Each seat had a phone charger and a Hermes blanket. A pretty flight attendant welcomed her and welcomed Sidney back. Jessica was the same flight attendant Babbers had on every flight. She was quiet and intuitive, without being overbearing or too flirty. She made Charlotte feel welcome and Clara feel important. Keen instincts and great at reading people. 

Sidney and Crowe slapped backs and asked the other if they had heard from Babbers. Charlotte sat down across from Clara leaving the seat next to her for Sidney. 

“What are you going to do on Monday at work? Are you going to tell anyone? I cannot wait to see the look on their faces when you tell them who your husband is.” Clara was giddy with anticipation. 

Charlotte hadn’t actually thought about Monday. She was living in a bubble of contentment and love. The purest she had ever felt. She wanted to go home and make love to her husband, work in her studio, and wrap herself up in the warmth and promise of her future. Which most certainly did not include designing decks for the Wall Street crowd. I can’t just quit my job, can I, Charlotte wondered? This was entirely new territory for her. She had someone else to consider when making these choices. Someone else to help her figure things out. Someone who cared about her choices, her wellbeing, her happiness. The idea brought tears to her eyes. The feeling was overwhelming to her. It was a mix of anxiety, confusion, warmth, hope and comfort. She had never had anyone to share her indecision or fears with. Or hopes, either, if she were being honest with herself. While her instinct was to do it all herself, that instinct was tempered by….wanting. She wanted to have someone who she could share the decisions and the outcomes with. But did Sidney want to be a part of her low-stakes problems. She worried he would think her ridiculous. Or worse, that she was taking advantage of his money and success. Figuring out her work situation would have to wait. 

“So? What are you going to do on Monday?” Clara continued prodding. Charlotte looked up from her cuticles and just shook her head. “I don’t know. I may need to take a few days off.”

“Excellent idea!,” Sidney offered excitedly. Coming to sit down next to Charlotte. She looked up and grabbed his hand. She was missing his touch in just the few minutes they had been parted since boarding the plane. “I was thinking you and I could take a few days off together and just….be,” Sidney continued, taking Charlotte’s hand and pulling it to his lips and holding it there. 

“I’d like that,” Charlotte almost whispered, “But don’t you have work?” Smiling up at Sidney, she could feel those tears making another appearance. Sidney adjusted himself in his chair to lean closer to her and kiss her cheek, where one of those determined tears was rolling down. 

“I need to be with you. I don’t need to be at work.” Sidney said matter-of-factly. “I might have some calls, but I can take those anywhere. I want to feed you breakfast french-fries in bed. Have you take me to your studio. Maybe even walk around Brooklyn,” he added with a smirk. 

“Are you sure we will be safe? I have heard Brooklyn is the ‘ugly step-child’ borough, riddled with deadbeats and artists…” Charlotte tried to continue but with Sidney’s growling while running his teeth and tongue over her ear like he was going to gobble her up precluded any ability to form more words. That, and her own amusement with herself, ensured she could only giggle and sink further into Sidney’s embrace. 

“I gotta move if this is what it is going to be like the whole flight,” Clara stated emphatically. Picking up her purse she walked over to Crowe. He had chosen the single seat across from ‘The Spot.’ Plane owners always took the same power seat and claimed it as their own. It’s the first one you see as you walk on board across the aisle from the door. The one with a perfect view of the flat screens and all the remotes stashed in a little pocket built into the wall beneath the window. It had a clear line of sight to the galley and the flight attendant’s perch. With a chair that swiveled 360, the occupant could survey his entire Plane Kingdom and preside over it with ease and authority. It will be amusing to see Babbers – sweet, unlucky, unassuming Babbers take The Spot, Clara thought with a smile forming as she tried to picture it. 

“Something funny Blondie?” Crowe was trying to sound disinterested as he sipped from the glass of Vodka rocks Jessica had set before him. Inside, however, he was really hoping she was not laughing at him. With all the excitement this morning he was choosing to ignore what it might mean that Clara and he had spent the whole weekend together and she was even flying home with him and his friends. Reflexively he was planning how to cut the cord when they landed. Because…well……that’s just what he does. Right? He was hard at work assessing his next steps. It was written all over his face. That and the hint of desperation in his voice convinced Clara to go in for the kill. 

“You don’t think so?” Clara responded with a sweet as cherry pie expression on her face.

“Not really but tell me. What has you amused so, Blondie?”

“You trying to figure out how to cut me loose once we land?”

Crowe choked. Figuratively and literally. The vodka went down the wrong pipe. Which was just as well, because Crowe had no response for Clara. She was clairvoyant, he swore. All weekend she had been catching him up short, letting him know exactly what was on his own mind. 

Clara moved to hold both his hands up over his head and pat his back like she was burping a baby. In a way, she was. Crowe was truly addled by her. And she was thoroughly enjoying it. He didn’t deserve to be tortured, no, he’d been too sweet for that, but a little more button pressing was good for him. She was sure of it. 

His breathing resumed to a normal clip, and the coughing stopped all together. “There you go,” Clara purred, as she rubbed his back in circles to calm him. “There, there. I know. It’s a lot. But guess what? You can do this. Don’t doubt yourself.” Clara kissed him on the top of his head and went to talk with Jessica. “Jessica. What’s for lunch on this thing? I think you will have some hungry passengers today….”

Crowe watched her while she walked away and chatted with Jessica. Was she right, he wondered? Could he do it? He was starting to think he would be single forever. His last relationship of any real length was years ago. He was still working all the time and there was built in comfort and companionship on location – it never took him much effort to have his needs met there. But, he had to admit to himself. If he didn’t see her after they landed today, he would miss their patter. She was not annoying to be with. And he is not sure he has said that about a woman in…ever. That’s gotta mean something. Still watching her, Clara turned and caught him and gave him a wink. Crowe could not help but smile. 

+++

Sidney had Charlotte in his lap now. Like that first night, holding her like a small child. He was sure somewhere out there a placard-waving feminist just fainted, but he didn’t care; he felt protective of her and holding her like this made him feel as though he could keep her safe. Plus, he nuzzled his face in her hair and breathed in that intoxicating Gardenia scent. It was sexy, and strong, but also delicate – the more you tried to catch the scent the less it made itself known. Charlotte rested her head on his shoulder, just luxuriating in his embrace. She had one hand around his neck and the other, as has become her habit, was laying over his heart on his chest. It’s not that they forgot where they were, or who they were with, they just could not see past each other. The only thing either one wanted was the other. Sidney whispered over and over again in her ear, “I love you. I love you…..I love you.” Every time he said it, Charlotte pressed her lips to his neck, just below his ear, and gave him a soft kiss. A thought did come to him in the middle of this peaceful and tender moment. Sidney wondered where Babbers was. If he had not brought two of the Wynn’s security guards with him when he left, Sidney would be much more worried. As long as Babbers was safe, he didn’t care when he arrived, he was content to be sitting here holding his whole world in his arms. 

++++

  
Esther stood there just looking at Babbers, her eyes filling with tears. She wanted to run from Edward and this place. She had been plotting it for over a year. But her plan was to do it alone. She didn’t need a man to save her. She wanted to do this herself without owing anyone anything. But here was this man. This seemingly decent man with friends that cared for him and respected him. Could she believe what he said? Would he really expect nothing in return? The last man she believed led her here. 

As though reading her thoughts, “We are headed to New York, that is where we all live. But I can take you where every you need to go. I can have the plane stop anywhere you will be safe. I just will not leave you here.” And with that he held out his hand to her. Esther looked at it, a tear sneaking down her cheek. 

They heard a scuffle and the guards were already back in the trailer as Edward must be coming to after the knockout punch he got from one of the guards. “Esther! Don’t you leave me Esther. You love me.” Edward moaned as he pulled himself up from the trailer floor. The guards blocked him at the door, and so he was left screaming at her from there. “Esther!”

“You don’t even know the meaning of the word, Edward.” And with that, she took Babbers outstretched hand and walked with him to one of the waiting SUVs. “You Bitch. Go ahead and whore your way up. See how much you can squeeze from this man. She’ll break your heart, asshole. Just you wait.” Edward was still fighting against the guards, who were easily keeping him trapped in the trailer. 

Babbers never even turned around to look at Edward. He had no use. He focused all his attention on Esther. He helped her get into the back of the SUV and entered right behind her. The driver wasted no time in getting them out of the trailer park and onto the highway. 

“Well, Babbers. Not what you thought you would be getting yourself into when you made yourself at home at the Baccarat table, huh?” Esther kept her gaze directed at the floor of the car. The clean, light beige and recently vacuumed carpet was now a shade or two darker in places where their shoes had stepped. That damn trailer park dust followed her everywhere. 

“I don’t give a shit about him, or anything about your past. I care about you. I want to know you and perhaps, be lucky enough to……” Babbers moved his head around, insisting she meet his eyes. 

Realizing she was not going to be able to avoid him, she looked up at him. There was that look. She did not know what it meant, but she liked it. And liked the way she felt when he looked at her like that. “Very well, Babbers. Where are we headed,” she asked realizing she was smiling at him and really could not stop. 

“Yo…you..you….you’ll come with me?”

“Don’t make me change my mind. Now you said you could have a plane take me anywhere I want, right?” Babbers nodded, worried she would not want to return to New York with him and the others. Yes, I can have my pilot to take you anywhere, as long as there is a landing strip. Where would you like to go?”

“Your pilot? You have your own plane? Not even a chartered flight? NetJets? Your very own plane? How can I trust a man with his own plane? ” He looked at her with a surprised look on his face. His wealth usually made women trust him implicitly or at least want him without a thought to whether they could trust him. “My friends will be on the flight as well. Everyone you met last night. Please, trust me. I would never harm you. In fact, my hope is to do just the opposite. I’d like to have the opportunity to make you happy.”

She looked at him and said nothing for a long time. “I want to trust you.”

“Well, I’ll take that, ” he said as he grabbed her hand again, and squeezed it. 

They sat in silence the rest of the way, but Babbers never let go of her hand. He thought it a good sign that she had not pulled it away. When they pulled up beside the plane, Esther shook her head. “I’ve never been on a plane before.” Babbers turned to her, incredulous. “Never?” 

“I never left Georgia before I drove to Vegas with Edward.” 

“Well then, it is your luck day. This is the latest and most sophisticated flying machine. The thing could fly itself, really. No need for pilots. It has a top speed of 850 miles per hour and….”. He stopped, realizing he was geeking-on a bit. One of the ground crew opened his door and Babbers look at Esther and said, “Let me be the first to welcome you to the friendly skies,” he said as he pulled her with him out and on to the tarmac. 

“Any luggage, Lord Babington,” asked the crew member?

“Already loaded, I hope. Thanks,” Babbers replied and walked Esther to the stairs of the plane. She took a step and stopped and turned, “LORD Babington? Are you kidding me?” Esther was starting to wonder if this whole thing was some sort of elaborate prank. But, of course, thinking someone cared enough to assemble such a fantastical tail was actually more far-fetched than this guy being a real Lord.

For his part, Babbers gave her a bashful grin an lifted his shoulder, “In fairness, I didn’t have much say in the matter. It is my family’s heritage.” He always hated when people found out he was a member of the British aristocracy. They seemed to treat him differently, when he felt so far away from all that, and really felt more American than British. 

Esther looked at him and a smirk began to make its home on her face. “A lord? With a private plane? This is some Hallmark Channel shit if there ever was some.” With that she turned an made her way up the stairs and into the plane like a natural, greeting Jessica with a smile.

Everyone on the plane look up at the door when they heard Babbers bellow from behind a shell-shocked Esther. “Hello friends. We will be joined today by Esther Denham. She will be accompanying us back to…..” Babbers stopped and touched Esther’s arm. She turned to look at him as he asked, “where did you want to go? I did say I could have the plane drop you anywhere?”

All eyes were on Esther, but she was only looking at Babbers. “Anywhere?” Esther rubbed her lips together to hide the smile creeping across her face.

“Anywhere,” Babbers reiterated. Hoping she would give him a chance and come back to New York with him. “I can drop you in Atlanta or you could come back to New York with us. Or, pick a place on the map you like to see and I can get you there.”

“Ooh. No pressure, Esther, but I have heard Paris is pretty lovely right now, I’d totally go to Paris If I was you. In fact, I could go with you. What do you say a week in Paris, just us girls” Clara interjected, seeing Babbers still needed help closing this deal. Crowe got in on it to, adding “You could eat croissant all day. And baguette. And pain au chocolat. There are no calories in Paris. It’s like magic.” Crowe seemed to be hyping himself up more than anyone else.

Charlotte and Sidney had been watching the whole exchange from their seat, Charlotte still planted on Sidney’s lap. “The Tuileries are supposed to be other-worldly. And the museums! I would just drink espresso, go to museums and eat cheese, Charlotte added, as Sidney gave her waste a little squeeze. “Is that all you would do in Paris,” Sidney whispered in her ear.

“These two.” Esther chuckled as she took a seat on the banquette across from Charlotte and Sidney, “you two still married? What, over 36 hours. Happy anniversary.” Charlotte buried her head in Sidney’s neck, and he turned bright red being reminded how impetuous, yet, he was certain, necessary wedding this weekend. “Hey, when you know. You know.” Sidney said confidently, despite the rosy color making its way across his cheeks. “I wish you all similar luck and success.” 

The pilot come out from the cockpit, letting Babbers know Esther had been added formally to the manifest. “All set, Sir. Anything else you need before we taxi into place?” Babbers turned sat down next to Esther on the banquette, inquiring, “All set? Where does your heart desire to go?” 

Esther looked at Babbers but could feel four other sets of eyes on her. Babbers looked back at her, and said again, quietly, “anywhere.”

“Well, Lord Babington, to complete this Hallmark movie I believe my final destination needs to be Paris.” Esther seemed amused and a bit shocked by herself.

“Mine , too!!!” Clara added almost immediately. Turning to Crowe, “What say you, Crowe, care for a few days in the city of lights?” Crowe turned white as a sheet and thought he might throw up. What had he done? Again, he let himself get carried away by Clara’s enthusiasm. What was happening to him?

Sidney and Charlotte were whispering to each other and Crowe was growing desperate for a distraction. “Hey what are you two talking about back there?” He called out in their direction.

Sidney and Charlotte just looked at each other with wide smiles. It was Charlotte who spoke first. “I think I could convince Sidney to go to Paris.” “Indeed, she could,” Sidney added. 

Babbers looked at everyone and shook his head in disbelief. “Is my plane being hijacked? Don’t I get a say?” He looked at Esther. She responded rather quickly. “If you say Paris, you do!” 

The thought actually thrilled Babbers. What better place to get Esther to fall in love with him? He had nothing pressing going on this week. Just more meetings with his decorator, he could certainly skip that. 

Babbers nodded at his pilot who had stood there quite amused as he watched the conversation play out. “I’ll see what we can do,” and with that, the pilot headed back to the cockpit. He’d need to radio the tower and change the flight plan. There was a small chance they would not get cleared for take-off to Paris for a few hours, but Babbers figured he would let it all work out on its own. 

Just then, Jessica came out of the galley with 6 flutes of champagne on a tray. 

Clara jumped up, “I thought, since we never really got to all toast the newlyweds we could do it now.” Jessica handed out the glasses and Charlotte stood up to get closer to the group, grabbing Sidney’s hand and pulling him behind her.

Clara began, “I think I speak for everyone when I say, Charlotte, Sidney……you are both fucking crazy.” 

Crowe added, “we had no idea, Sidney when we said you needed a weekend in Vegas to mark the start of you knew life, you’d actually go out and get a whole new life, in Vegas. But, leave it to Parker to do the very unexpected and make it seem like it is the most normal thing in the world.”

“And Charlotte, I would like to note here, for the record, that despite my attempts to set you up with several of our fellow Morgan Sachs employees, you told me you would never date someone from work, so I would like to hear you say, ‘you were right Clara.’”

“Technically,” Charlotte interrupted, holding her drink high above her head, “Sidney and I never dated,” she said with a wry smile leaning back into his warm, hard chest and enjoying a tight one-armed hug from him.

“Well, I for one am very glad to welcome Charlotte Parker to our merry little crew. You are more than we could have hoped for Sidney, and we know he will work hard everyday to prove himself worthy of you. To the happy couple,” Babbers boomed as he raised his glass. “to the happy couple,” Esther, Clara and Crowe responded. At that moment pilot came through to the main cabin, “15 minutes for take-off, we are cleared for Paris.” Babbers looked around the plane and zeroed in on Esther, with his glass held high, and said, “And, to Paris!” “To Paris,” they all cheered.

n

  


n


	23. La fin - Paris, the Epilogue.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All absurd things must come to an end. So, too our Sanditon in Vegas FanFic. Let's say a bientot the crew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be a continuation/new story based in New York and Sidlotte focused. 
> 
> Can you turn an impulsive and romantic gesture into long term love and companionship? Like most who come to New York, HEA is not guaranteed. But, if they can make it there.......

Babbers assistant, Monica had three cars waiting for them when the plane landed. Each couple’s luggage transferred quickly to their corresponding car. 

Sidney had checked in with Babbers to ensure he was able to book the right room at the Plaza Athenee. It was his favorite hotel. Even though it was something Eliza introduced him to, he was not going to throw the baby out with the bath water. Paris fashion week turns this place into the canteen at Conde Nast every September – and Eliza loved to buzz around the queen herself, just as all the others did. They had never shared any particularly remarkable memories there (good or bad) – Sidney dutifully attending her fashion events as a well-groomed plus-one. But, he loved the service, the location and with the amount of travel he has done for work – his middle-East clients loved meeting up in Paris to discuss financing of roads - he was a well-known and frequent guest. Sidney knew this was Charlotte’s first visit to Paris, and there is one particular suite at the Athenee that has a direct view of the Eiffel Tower. He had texted Monica himself to ask her to reserve it for him if it was available. He knew Babbers wouldn’t want it as it was a one-bedroom suite, and Babbers was smart enough to know that was no way to impress a woman you just met 48 hours ago. Of course, Sidney had just met Charlotte 48 hours ago. But, the analogy seemed inapposite. He and Charlotte…..they hadn’t just met. They had taken all their parts and reassembled together. All the things he had been missing and searching for were contained in her. And everything she needed or dreamed of but never dared asked for were wrapped up in him. Theirs was not a meeting. Theirs was a genesis. The start of life for them both. He’d never felt so sure of anything. All he wanted to do was make sure she felt as sure of it as he did. 

Le Bourget airport to the center of Paris was only 20 minutes, but since it was already Monday morning, there was commuting traffic to contend with. Neither Charlotte nor Sidney cared. Charlotte was tucked under Sidney’s arm, with her head on his shoulder and a leg swung over his lap. With one arm wrapped behind him feeling the warmth and the weight of his back, the other lay on his chest, when she was not tracing the outline of his jaw or chin with her delicate and tentative fingers. Charlotte had never slept on a plane before – unless you count leaning on her RISD classmates in coach on the way back from London after junior-year abroad. This was an altogether new experience. She hadn’t relaxed into the abject luxury just yet. Not that she took a moral position against extravagant displays of wealth, especially ones as well appointed as Babbers plane, it just wasn’t coming naturally. She felt on edge. She needed Sidney closer. She needed to feel him. But, with a plane full of friends, she knew she should not tempt the inevitable course of events that would trigger. She felt the way he pulled his hips back when she spooned into him. He kissed her ear and squeezed her tight but left a…gentlemanly distance between her backside and his frontside. Just like on the dancefloor. She ached for him and at the same time marveled at his restraint.

Sidney was relatively comfortable the whole plane ride, lying with Charlotte in his arms, breathing in her scent, relying on the calm rhythm of her breath. But he was awake for a good portion of that flight. It took every ounce of his will to control himself. He wanted to run his hands all over her golden skin and show her how much he wanted her. He lay there counting right angles in the plane, trying to relax his body and his mind. 

And with all the pent-up desire, Charlotte had one thing on her mind as they were shown into their hotel room. The butler directed the bell hop to open the luggage in the closet as he demonstrated how to reach him either by phone or using one of the ipads sitting on the nightstand or the sideboard in the living room, from which you could turn off the lights, order “pillow” service, housekeeping and more. As Sidney tipped both the men, having had the hotel advance him 500 Euros they added to his hotel bill, he turned to show Charlotte the view from the terrace. Charlotte was not there. He walked into the bedroom hoping to find her there, preferably on the bed, but all he saw was her dress on the floor and the light on in the bathroom. He took a step toward the lighted doorway and heard the shower running. 

A shower is all Charlotte had been yearning for since they all “woke up” and prepared for landing. Well, not all she had been yearning for, but first things first. The warm water felt amazing as it washed over her and slid down her body in a steady rain. Charlotte closed her eyes and let the water and rising steam envelope her. A smile crossed her face. In fact, a smile was almost a permanent fixture since she met Sidney. Having spent little time in her own mind processing the events of the weekend, all of her new understanding and awareness, along with the implications of what they had done seemed to hit her at once.

She was married. 

If you had asked her on Thursday if she ever wanted to get married, she would have had an elaborate, pretentious answer making distinctions between the institution of marriage, the social construct behind gender roles, the consumerism behind fetishizing the engagement. And don’t get her started on the Instagram induced FOMO of every woman 16-46, with proposals and rings and “my best friend asked me to marry him today,” posts all sponsored by hotels, jewelers and wedding magazine websites. She most certainly wanted nothing to do with any of that. 

She did not want to be a solo act, either. She did want to be part of a unit. A self-contained, self-sustaining cocoon. She had no demands or requirements to list, it wasn’t an ad for a roommate. She wanted a feeling. No transaction, simply shared existence anchored in mutual love and affection. Where the search for more ceased. If Milo was good for anything other than lavishing her pussy with his tongue, he made it clear to her that her penchant for anticipating peoples’ wants and then becoming what they wanted was getting old and certainly not serving her anymore, if it ever did. She mothered Milo because that’s what he wanted from her, not because she wanted to. Not from some innate mothering instinct of hers. In fact, she is not sure she possessed one. And at school she easily acquired the tastes and conventions of her environment. An elimination of boundaries in all aspects of life in service of the muse. She slept with whoever, did whatever drugs were handed to her, and deemed any expectations of others, bourgeois; she fit right in. 

And Susan. How to unpack that. Her few forays into therapy yielded some textbook analysis, “mother figure, old family roles and patterns, experimentation.” While one or all of those may be true, Charlotte new it was her own quick study of the woman and an ability to please Susan that fed that relationship. Susan wanted her. She made that clear from the start. It was years before Charlotte realized she never once asked herself what she wanted. As though the goal was to be wanted. And the person who wanted you the most was the person you should want; despite what their motivation was, or how their want was demonstrated. To be wanted was the goal. And contorting herself to bend to their ideas and expectations was the means to achieve it. Because, if she wanted something without knowing in advance if it was available to her, if she made plain what she desired without knowing how the story ended, then she was bound to be denied. Disappointed. Rejected. Unwanted. 

All of this became crystal clear to her when she saw him sitting next to her at that blackjack table. The calming presence, the gentle eyes, the warm, shy smile. She wanted his energy, his smell, whoever he was. She wanted the feeling of belonging she had when he touched her arm. Without even knowing what he was thinking or how he felt, she knew all she needed to know about him. She wanted him. To be warmed by him and to hold him. He was not part of any “good old-fashion fun” Clara coaxed her into believing she needed. No. She had skipped right past that. She knew her smile broadened right there in the shower as she thought about how she tried to take control. She had mastered the act of accommodating dominance. Give them what they want and trick herself into believing she was in control. Didn’t last long. She looked in his dark eyes and her brain turned off. She was not going to over think this one. Her heart and body took over. 

The feel of his hand on her lower back as they walked to the casino lounge was electric. She wanted that feeling all over her body. His eyes. When he focused in on her she hoped he could not see how hard she swallowed, or how firm and pert her nipples became. He could have told her to go do karaoke and she would have. She would have done anything, as long as she could look into those eyes. And, being so sure of what she wanted presented her with another realization: she had no idea how to get what she wanted. She typically waited around to be wanted. Was that what she was supposed to do here? She thought about what a huge shift in perspective this was for her as she found the shower gel on the marble shelf and poured it into her hands. She recalled sitting there in the lounge with him. She should have been terrified. This was totally new ground for her. While she knew he was physically attracted to her – without vanity she had acknowledged as fact a while back her effect on men, and women – she assumed he, like she, had come to Vegas in search of a distraction. But, he distracted her from nothing. He focused her in on the thing she wanted to understand most – what it was she wanted in her life. It seemed so obvious, so natural. He gave her the space to be who she was and to ask for what she truly wanted. He demanded nothing specific. He let her unfurl herself before him at her own pace, comforted by the warmth in his eyes. He didn’t hide his interest or appreciation behind anything; no code for Charlotte to break. His openness made her bold. Made her feel safe. Made her feel…..seen. She knew all that by the time they found that ridiculous ersatz Versailles garden and he told her he had been watching her. 

She should have been creeped out by this revelation. Scared. But in his eyes, there was nothing but honesty and a little fear. The idea that she courted none of his attention, yet had it without knowing, oddly made her feel a part of something. She hadn’t even fixed one of his presentations at work. She served him in no way and he still watched for her. Thought of her. Thinking about his affection from afar felt like freefalling with all the butterflies in her tummy and delicious tingles all over her body but also with the knowledge he was there at the bottom to catch her so she wouldn’t get hurt. 

That moment in the garden was it for her. There was no more search left in her. She found what she was looking for and held on tight. 

As she lathered her arms, her breasts and her torso she thought of how much physical pleasure he gave her. Their bodies were made to fit together. It was instinctual: her head fit in the crook of his neck and his shoulder, his arm was exactly the right height to embrace her shoulders and hold her close when they walked. His lips…..his lips seemed to belong on hers. They belonged on her. Anywhere on her. Without them she felt cold. Even a quick peck to her head from above. It was exactly where it should be. In fact, she realized, interrupting her internal reverie, he was with her in the shower, stood behind her now, with his arms around her waist and his lips pressed atop her scalp. He pulled her close and took over the job of caressing her body with the soapy suds.

Even this. He seemed to appear on que, just as her thoughts turned to his body and their physical connection. A reminder of their fit. Of their oneness. She loved this man and though it defied all logic and rational explanation, it made perfect sense on a cellular level. Real truths cannot be hidden from your body, she thought. And her whole body let her know, she was home.

They spent more time lathering each other and holding each other. When the hot water began to dwindle, Sidney stepped out to grab a towel and wrap Charlotte up with it. They didn’t speak. There was no need. He kept his arms around her waist and swayed with her side to side. Exhaustion and contentment calling both of them to sleep. They toweled off and he guided her to bed. He tucked in behind her and immediately pulled her flush to him. His whole body. The feel of him – from her toes curled up on his shins to the top of her head perfectly snug under his chin - enveloped her whole body. It comforted her and yet it was still not enough for Charlotte. She needed him closer. She need all of him. Rolling out of his embrace, Sidney looked at her unsure of what she was going to do. As she turned her body back to him and slipped her leg across his, she settled on top of him and ran her hands over his shoulders and around his neck till she found his short curls at the back of his head. She picked her head up and found his gaze and held it. She lay motionless astride him and looked deep into his loving and expressive eyes. 

“I won’t be able to sleep without you inside me,” Charlotte whispered as she kissed the spot on his chest above his beating heart. Without effort or word, they joined as one. Sidney held her tight on him, under the warm blankets and closed his eyes. Not even bothering to catch the tear that slipped out the corner of his eye and ran down the side of his face, past his temple, disappearing into his scalp. The universe indeed had bestowed upon him a happiness he never believed possible. He could not attribute this….them, to anything else but Devine intervention. 

+++

“I bet those two went right to sleep. Rookie move. You’ve got to stay up the day you land, get on local time. Parker knows better, the man travels more than an airline pilot,” Crowe announced as he and Clara sat outside Vingt-Deux a few blocks from the hotel. Clara, was reading Le Monde and nodded with a little hum. “I, personally, slept like a baby on the plane and am ready for a walk about. Where shall we go,“ Crowe inquired?

Clara looked up from her paper and observed Crowe’s odd manner. She had no idea what he was up to, but she had several places she wanted to go, including her favorite bar in her old neighborhood. And then there was her clothing. While a small selection of her wardrobe could be considered suitable for Vegas and Paris, none of it was in her luggage. Who knew Monday would start in Paris. When she packed for this trip to Vegas, she went full Vegas. Va Va Voom, not Haute Couture. No, she would head toward the 6th via rue Montagne for some appropriate clothing. Which gave her an idea. 

Folding her paper and placing it on the table next to her empty espresso cup, she looked over at him “first stop, Crowe, ‘shopping’” they said in unison. “aw, honey, you know me so well,” Clara purred, using a little of her Texas drawl playfully. “I am sure Esther needs a few things. She did not appear to have packed a bag. Maybe we could pick her up and take her to Bon Marche. She likely needs everything, from base layer to clutch.” Crowe looked thoughtfully at her. She seemed only to appear self-absorbed and self-centered, he thought. She was actually quite a caring person. There was pressure behind his eyes, and he needed to blink several times to stop the sensation. He refused to believe this was anything but jet-lag. “Text Babbers. See if he can spare her for a few hours.”

Dutifully, Crowe grabbed his phone and saw he already had a text from Babbers. 

11.30 a.m. Babbers: You guys awake? Any chance Clara would take Esther shopping? I can’t take her – I am no Richard Gere. But Clara knows her way around the city and it would really mean a lot to me. My treat.

“You are in luck, Blondie, Babbers and you are of one mind. He would very much like you to escort Esther on a jaunt to the shops. He has even offered to pay.” 

“Weeeeee. Let’s go pick her up. I would love for you to join us, but I think Esther might like some privacy. How about you and Babbers do whatever men about town do here. I am sure we shall see little of Sidney and Charlotte. Nor should we.”

Crowe agreed. The less Parker-in-love Blondie saw, the better. He was setting an impossibly high bar, Crowe thought. As usual. “No. I suspect not. Babbers and I will sort the evening’s activities and perhaps see you later this afternoon.”

“Then we need to head to the 6th. I want to say hello to a few old friends. I’ll show you were I used to live and entertain you with tails of my misspent youth.” With a deep breath, Crowe paid the tab and gathered Clara’s purse for her. Following Ms. Clara Brereton around Paris seemed……what, exactly? He thought about it as they walked back to the hotel and realized it seemed just fine with him. 

+++

Babber’s hated that they called it the Royal suite, but it was the only suite with multiple bedrooms. After getting a glimpse into what Esther had been dealing with for the past several years, he was in no way wishing to pressure her or make her feel uncomfortable. Her own room. Her own bathroom. But shared common spaces was exactly what he hoped for – Like roomies, he thought. 

Still, it felt a little too, ‘Pretty Woman’ for his taste. In this moment, he was painfully aware how extravagant his life was. Hoping Esther would not be repulsed and want nothing more to do with him, he vowed to buy something normal like a Prius or a jeep when he got home. 

Esther was in a complete state of shock. Having woken up after probably the best few hours of sleep in her entire life – on a plane, no less – she was starting to feel the enormity of what had just transpired. She left Edward. And not just to go live with some roommates on the other side of town. No, she just got off a plane in a different country with a genuinely decent man and his friends. What in the actual fuck? Unable to process all of this she focused on the man sitting next to her in the back of the car heading into Paris. What a surprising and lovely man. She felt no pressure from him nor any expectations for all that he had done. She could tell he was not keeping score. Her gratitude was genuine and since he did not ask for it, she felt it could be given freely. 

“I have decided to deal with the disaster of a life I have later, Babington. I feel so thoroughly unsure and out of control, there is no point. Right now, I intend to enjoy Paris. That is what I can control. I want to buy one of those travel guides and see everything. The Louvre. The Eiffel Tower. The Champs Elysee. All of it.” He smiled. He loved to play tour guide in what is one of his favorite cities and had hoped she would let him. “Then we shall see all of it, m’lady,” he said miming a tip of his hat to her. Esther smiled and turned to face toward the window, watching the sun shine on large warehouses and old factories she never would have imagined existed in Paris. What did she know other than the postcards? And the cheesy Vegas hotel. They were clearly on the outskirts, and every city needed commerce. But it still was a shock to think even Paris was not perfect. 

She quickly revised that assessment when she walked into the room or apartment where she and Babbers would be staying. The extra-opulent hotel accommodations seemed par for this particular course, Esther thought. What else would this caper include when it landed in Paris, a Ramada Inn? Of course not. Comforted but not altogether surprised by being shown to her own bedroom and en-suite bath, she was hoping to take a shower and eat - those were her two demands. And Babington delivered. When she came out of the shower, wearing a huge hotel robe she came to the main room and found waiting for her coffee, some type of omlette, sausage, baguette, Pain au Chocolat and fruit. What else could a woman possibly need. 

“Clothes,” Babbers stated bluntly and apropos of nothing. Looking at Esther as he sipped his cappuccino. “I was thinking you may need some clothes. I did not give you time to pack.” Esther finished chewing her forkful of salmon and eggs. She hated this kind of stuff. The real-world interfering with her attempts at disassociation. Couldn’t she just have a Paris dream for a few days without thinking about how she would handle the quotidian. Wait till she asks him how to find a toothbrush in this place. She did not see one in her bathroom and the phone instructions were all in French. She was so out of her element she didn’t even know if her credit card would work here. And where do you go to find clothing she could afford. She doubted there is a Five Below nearby. 

“I texted Crowe. He said Clara wanted to do some shopping and I suggested you go together. She used to live here so she knows all the places real people shop. She can help you kit yourself out for the week.” 

“A week? We are staying a week,” Esther screeched? Babbers looked crushed and she realized quickly she had absolutely no place else to be. “Sorry. I just hadn’t thought past this meal. All this talk of shopping and planning. I am a little overwhelmed.” 

“I understand. And if that robe is all you want to wear during your stay, I will not complain. It suits you.” Esther couldn’t help but smile. He had a way of calming her without making her feel childish or unsophisticated. He expected nothing in return. But the fact he hoped there may be something between them definitely made her stomach float a little. ‘Relax, Esther. Let him be nice to you. Try it on. See how you like it. You can always find another asshole to rob you of your self-respect if it puts you off.’ This thought was a comfort, oddly. 

“Clara sounds like the perfect shopping buddy. What time was she thinking?”

+++

Clara was right. About most things that trip. She and Esther spreed their way through Bon Marche and a few of her favorite boutiques. She hated to brag (ha) but Esther's glow-up was one for the glassy magazines. She looked stunning in everything Esther picked out. A quick haircut, and some decent shoes, and Esther looked more at home in Paris than Parisian woman.

They heard little from Charlotte and Sidney, and saw even less of them. A few chance meetings in the Lobby lounge with Crowe and Clara and a meet up with Babbers and Esther at the Pompidou was about all they could muster for mingling with other people. 

For anyone who thought the two may come to their senses and wish to end their hasty union, it seemed their predictions were only partially correct. Charlotte and Sidney had indeed come to their senses. Together. That night in Vegas. They made perfect sense. To each other. 


End file.
